


Poe Dameron's Cute Boyfriend

by 49Times



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Confusion, Finn is very confused, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, JUST TALK TO EACH OTHER, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Poe is very confused, Poor confused boys, Smut, So much angst, Stormpilot, Stupid Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 06:58:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10848813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/49Times/pseuds/49Times
Summary: For several years, Poe has been casually seeing Max, who works as a spy for the Resistance. It's intermittent, it's pleasant and it's simple.Or at least it WAS... until an ex-stormtrooper came into his life and immediately began wreaking havoc on his heart.When Max arrives back on the scene in swagger and glory, he stirs things up and forces Finn and Poe to acknowledge feelings they've been trying to keep buried beneath the surface.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When recently watching TFA, after smiling at Finn's ridiculous 'cute boyfriend' line, I suddenly got inspired to write something StormPiloty where Poe has a kind-of boyfriend and how that might play out.

 

 

How a man like Max Atlo managed to become one of the most useful assets the Resistance has is beyond Poe’s understanding. The man, as Poe knows him, is reckless, ridiculous and utterly lacking in subtlety.

 

The way the General and everyone else tells it, he’s an actual _genius_ when it comes to undercover work and he’s gleaned information that has saved the rebels from the brink more times than they can count.Poe believes it, because he’ll always believe whatever Leia tells him, but he just can’t _picture_ it.

Because the Max he knows is anything _but_ discreet and covert. From the minute they met, Poe knew him as someone who wears everything right on his sleeve, and it's a struggle to reconcile that with the fact that he's actually one of the most important spies Leia has in the First Order right now.

 

When Poe sees him, they don’t talk about his job, so Poe doesn’t know much about the details of what Max does, at least not the fucked-up, knitty gritty ones. Most of it, Max isn’t even _allowed_ to talk about it, but even if he was... deep talks aren’t really a thing they do.

 

What they do, what they’ve always done, is flirt shamelessly in front of everyone, while doing a whole lot of banter and one-upmanship that has all the pilots watching them, smirking.

 

Poe’s used to being the center of attention, and he kind of loves it, if he’s being honest. But he likes the thrill of competition too, and Max certainly provides that that when they try to outdo each other and the squad eggs them on. They're kind of dumb together, really, but there's always a thrill that goes through him when Max shows up on the base. Max is a chiseled jaw and raw charisma. Max knows exactly who he is, and Poe likes that about him.

 

Poe’s been with other guys at the base from time to time. Never anything serious, but the one's he's been with have typically desired discretion, happy to fumble with him in the dark of his private bunk but less keen to have everyone know their business. 

 

It’s never really bothered Poe, that most of his lays are like that. Things are so close quarters on the base that Poe completely gets it. People know far too much about each other as it is. He won’t fault anyone for wanting privacy.

 

Still, sometimes Poe enjoys getting to flaunt exactly who he is.

 

He can _do_ that with Max.

 

The work Max does means his life is a mess of paranoia, lies and fear. He lives the vast majority of his life wound tight, surrounded by enemies, having to _pretend,_ to do unspeakable shit to maintain his cover. Poe doesn't know what those things are- he'd listen, if Max ever wanted to tell him, but he's truthfully really glad he never has. He doesn't know if he'd be of any use in that way, but Poe can be something else for him, something he is more than happy to be for him.

 

When Max comes to the base to deliver his reports to the council, he always takes a couple of days to unwind before going back into the isolated world of spying. When Max unwinds, he does it hard.

 

He always shows up with an excess of booze and surrounds himself with people to share it with. 

He plants himself at Poe's side and throws as much affection his way as he does banter. He makes sure everyone around them is fully aware he intends to fuck Poe senseless when the party’s over. There’s a wildness to Max, an intensity that drew Poe to him at once. They came together like magnets the night they met, Poe amazed and thrilled to have stumbled into someone as straightforward about their horniness as he is. The attraction was instant, fully charged, with neither of them shying away from it even a little.

 

Every time Max comes back, it’s just a given that they’re going to end the night with groping and biting and grinding, finding a release in one another that they both need.

 

They’re shameless together. Always have been.

 

Poe loves it.

 

It’s fun.

 

 _Max_ is fun.

 

It’s always been _so fun._

 

Poe can recall every single one of the times Max has shown up at the base. Often, Max'll choose to stand quietly over him as he works on his X-wing, arms folded, blatantly checking him out until Poe feels eyes on him and looks up. Then there’s a snide comment or maybe a vulgar one, and Poe grins back and says something even sassier. Usually there’s a hug. Once, Poe had been feeling particularly brazen. He came out from under his ship, walked right up to Max and gave him an open-mouthed kiss in the hangar bay. Max had rolled his eyes but looked pleased. Usually they only threw around the P.D.A. once they were getting drunk in the rec room with Poe’s close friends.

 

Other times, he’d hear of Max’s arrival from one of his pilots. They’d give him a sly grin and say, “Hey, Dameron. Your boyfriend’s back” and even though he’d tell whoever it was off for calling Max his boyfriend, Poe would feel that wave of _hell yeah_ at the news. Knowing he was in for a hell of a time that night, he would rush through the rest of his work, and charge off to find Max, who’d join them as soon as he finished sharing his intel with the council.

 

It has always been like that.

 

Max on the base means laughter and drinking, a feeling of freedom and of course, sex. Lots and lots of steamy, frenzied, mind-blowing sex.

 

It has always been like that.

 

But then there comes a time when Max shows up, and Poe _doesn’t_ feel the rush of _hell yeah._

 

When Jess Pava catches him in the hall and and tells him Max is back, all he says is “Oh.”

 

“Oh? Is that really all you have to s- _oh. Ooohhh.”_ Her eyes widen.

 

Poe’s shoulders tense up at the look of realization on her face, and he feels a rush of panic that he hates himself a little bit for. “What are you- why are you making that face?”

 

Jessika’s expression is hard to read. There’s a little surprise there, but there’s also a touch of amusement and something like sympathy. “I just... I get why you’re not entirely...I get it.”

 

“What? Get what? There’s nothing to get,” he says, knowing he sounds like a defensive idiot, hating himself for not being able to channel his signature coolness. He'd stood up against Kylo Ren and the goddamn torture at the hands of the First Order, and yet here he is, unable to get his shit together around Jessika Fucking Pava. 

 

Jess looks a little guilty. “I just mean- I guess it might feel a little strange, him being back...now that you have Fi-”

 

He cuts her off at once, cannot let her finish a sentence that is the complete opposite of true. “I do not _have_ Finn, Jess. Don’t be ridic- I- It’s _great_ that Max is back. Obviously. I just- I didn’t think we were expecting him for a while,” Poe says, willing himself to be fucking chill for long enough to get through this. “I hear he was in the Belderon system, at least that's what he said last time he headed out. Bet he got us some good moonshine out there, they're known for it. I always wanted to try-”

 

He’s rambling, and Jess very clearly knows he’s rambling, so he stops. The hallway is cool, but suddenly everything feels way too hot.  

 

“Mmm,” Jess says, looking skeptical as fuck. “Right.” Poe knows she’s way too smart not to know exactly what is going on in his dumb head, and he _hates_ that and hopes it’s not as obvious to everyone else as it is to her.

 

It probably is. At least to the people who know him. He’s such an idiot.

 

“Shut up,” he says sharply.

 

“What? I didn’t say anything!” Jess says, indignant and a little amused. She didn't have to say anything. He knows what she's thinking, about him and about Finn, about his pitiful feelings that he can't logic away.

Poe must look every bit as miserable as he feels because her amusement disappears and her face softens. “Sorry, Poe. I’m sure it must be- a little weird. And it's not really that funny. I know it’s not really a thing we talk about. I’m sorry I’m talking about it now. If you want to go back to never talking about it, I’ll shut up. I just want you to know, if you _do_ need anything or want to talk it out, I’m around.”

 

She reaches over and gives his shoulder a squeeze and Poe closes his eyes, enjoying the solidarity even if he has no desire to speak his painful, confusing, terrible thoughts out loud. When he opens them, he nods wordlessly at her and stumbles away.

 

_A little weird?_

 It’s a lot more than _a little weird._

It shouldn’t be, because even though Finn is _just his friend_ and he tells himself that four hundred times a day, Max is back, and when Max is back he and Poe _always_ fuck. And it's not like this thing he has with Max is exclusive- he sleeps with other people (at least he did, before the most beautiful man in the world busted into his life, whipped off his helmet and saved him from the jaws of death). He knows that Max does too, if he ever runs into a willing partner amid all the espionage.

He's not  _sleeping_ with Finn though. He's never going to sleep with him. He knows that, not matter what kind of swoop he gets in his belly whenever Finn smiles at him. Because it doesn't mean what he wants it to mean. Finn has a killer smile and he gives it freely. To everyone.

The thing is though, Poe is not the same person he was before Finn.

Finn has changed him-  _totally screwed him up-_ and it's not his fault and he actually has no idea what he's doing to Poe but he's still _doing_ it, every single day.

And now Max is back, and Poe is in love with someone else, and  _that_ is something totally new and Poe has no idea what's going to happen. Not a clue. But he is entirely certain it's going to be more  _a little weird._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max shows up and Poe continues to try to rationalize things that are happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to those of you who have left comments/kudos so far! I hope you enjoy this chapter too!

It’s not really right, the way he feels about Finn. Poe knows that, but there’s no denying it either and there’s no willing it away.

 

Still, Poe tries his hardest not to let it affect their day-to-day interactions, to keep the burning ache that is now a constant in his life under wraps and treat Finn with entirely platonic kindness.

 

Considering just how bad said ache is, Poe thinks he does a pretty good job.

 

He’s friendly to Finn, he looks out for him and makes sure he’s happy and helps him figure out who’s who and what’s what in the Resistance. He smiles a lot, and can’t help showing his genuine affection for the guy who saved his life, but he’s careful not to cross any lines or reveal too much. 

 

Finn is an insanely good person who fought his way through an insanely fucked up life. He fought his way out of a hell so few ever had, and Poe believes from the bottom of his heart that Finn deserves as much happiness as he can possibly get in the middle of a war. Poe makes it his _mission_ to make sure Finn is happy, and part of that has to include a silent oath to never, ever make him uncomfortable by expressing feelings Finn can’t return.

 

From the second Finn left the med bay, Poe made it his mission to give him a family, dragging Finn right into the middle of his own ragtag group. He actually _ordered_ his squad to make Finn feel as welcome as possible, not that it was necessary at all. His pilots were more than happy to welcome the person their leader never stopped talking about into their crew, and quickly found they loved Finn as much as Poe does.

 

Well, maybe not _as much_ as Poe does, because that's all tall order. He’s pretty sure Finn is not the first person the pilots think about when they wake up, nor is Finn the last person they think about before they fall asleep. He’s pretty sure they don’t feel mynocks flitting about in their stomachs every time Finn so much as smiles at them. He's pretty sure their days don't feel cold and incomplete if they don't run into Finn at least once in the course of it.

 

But yes, they do love him a damn lot, because Finn is easy to love.

 

Anyway- the point- the point Poe _constantly_ has to remind himself of, is that Finn deserves total happiness. He deserves a place where he can feel like he belongs. He should not have any part of his new life marred in any way, if they can avoid it. There are factors, of course, beyond everyone’s control. That's a consequence of being in the Resistance.

 

Still, keeping this thing he has for Finn hidden is something he _can_ do. Something he _has_ to do.

 

Poe is painfully aware that if Finn ever figures out exactly how fond Poe is, it would mess up his happiness. He’s positive Finn would be as sweet about it, just like he is about _everything_ , but no matter what, there’d be humiliation on Poe’s part, and awkwardness after and it would take effort on both parts to make things normal again. Above it all, Poe knows he has found an incredible friend in Finn, and he refuses to damage that by letting on how much he adores him in a very more-than-friends way.  

 

Finn is in love with Rey.

 

He _has_ to be. Poe hasn’t asked, because he can’t bear to hear the inevitable answer, but he can tell.

 

Finn talks about her all the time, and he misses her like crazy. When Finn first woke up, he’d been thrilled to see Poe, but in almost the next breath he was asking about Rey, and Poe could never quite get the way Finn’s face fell when he heard about to leaving out of his head.

 

Sometimes, even though Rey is amazing and lovely and courageous and bright, Poe feels this burning, twisting stab of jealousy he can't fight off.

 

 _Finn barely even got to_ _know_ _her, they barely even had any time together, how can he be so-_

 

It’s always followed by a swift rush of guilt because Poe doesn’t want to be the kind of person who thinks ugly thoughts.

 

Of course, there’s also a bitter voice that bites back ‘ _B_ _arely any time’? Really, Dameron? As if you didn’t fall in love with Finn the second he took off his fucking helmet. You’ve got no right to pull that 'barely any time' shit. You were lost the minute you met him. You know full well how quickly it can happen._

 

It was a strange feeling at first, acknowledging it was _love_ he felt for Finn, or at least the kind of love it was.

 

Poe was a loving person. He loved easily. It had been his philosophy to be open and expressive, because life could be cut short so quickly. He didn’t waste any time in letting his friends know how much he loved them, in warming to people fast and making them part of his make-shift family with haste.

 

But this thing with Finn, it was different.

 

It wasn’t just _love_.

 

It was _in love._

 

And that was something new. New and terrifying and painful.

 

If he could wish it away, he would.

 

Poe had always been a man of action, a person who followed his gut, who said what he felt and went after things he wanted. He was never afraid to stick his neck out, to try and flirt with someone who caught his eye if he thought they might be up for a tumble. The constant shadow of death that loomed over the Resistance made a lot of people willing to seize moments and Poe used his charms and looks to his advantage. He got lucky a lot of the time, but if someone wasn’t interested, Poe didn’t particularly care one way or the other.

 

He isn’t used to needing to bottle things up inside with nowhere to release them. He isn’t used to _longing_ for anything but now he longs for Finn every damn day.

 

It sucks.

 

He does a damn good job, he thinks, of keeping things as platonic as he can. He has a feeling that Jess is far from the only pilot who is onto him, who suspects he has feelings for Finn, but he thinks he’s done a good enough job of keeping Finn oblivious.

 

Unlike the squadron, Finn doesn’t know what Poe’s life was before he came along.

He doesn’t know that Poe liked sleeping around when he had the opportunity, and that he hasn’t gone for anyone since they met, hasn't even really _looked_ at anyone else.

Finn doesn’t know that Poe Dameron was never, ever witness being tongue-tied by any of his squadron before he came along, but now it happens at least a few times a week when Finn does something adorable to distract him or make him flustered. He doesn't realize that when Poe watches him so intently as he works on his X-wing, it's not because Poe is excessively worried about safety, but because he's the most beautiful man Poe Dameron has ever seen. 

 

The squad knows. They have to know.

 

Hell, before Finn woke up from his injury, there had been countless jokes about Poe ‘standing vigil over his boyfriend'... though they’d been kind enough to be cool once Finn was awake and brought into their circle and cut out their teasing. He's quite certain that several conversations about it have gone on behind his back though. 

 

It makes him feel a little pathetic, that they all know.

 

It’s stupid, but Poe enjoys feeling tough and invulnerable, of having his pilots look up to him. Poe wonders if they think less of him, for being blatantly in love with someone who can’t return his feelings, and he hates that there's a part of him now that is so damn insecure. It wasn't there before. He knows deep down that they _don’t_ , of course they don't think less of him, but there’s some kind of pity there, and he doesn’t want _that_ either.  

 

It’s really a good thing Max is here.

 

Poe is in serious need of a distraction. Maybe it’ll even shake him out of this awful infatuation that’s going nowhere. To have a real person, flesh and blood, who he can touch, who he can kiss and fuck and find release with, instead of living inside his own head, thinking about lips he’ll never feel, imagining the feel of a cock in his palm that he won’t ever be able to touch.

 

Poe feels like a complete asshole, when his mind goes to filthy places about Finn, knowing the beautiful, _innocent_ man has no fucking idea. What’s weirder though- newer- is that his thoughts aren’t exclusively filthy ones. There are plenty of those, of course, but there are all these _other_ ones that creep in that are different, and those are the ones that drive him the most insane.

 

He thinks about Finn staying the night in his bunk.

It has happened a couple of times, of course, where Finn came by Poe’s quarters to watch a holo and fell asleep on his bed, but he now he has this fantasy that's way more intimate and warm than the reality of it.

On the real nights that end like that, Poe barely sleeps a wink, dedicating all his mental energy to trying to keep an appropriate distance between them. He has to practically hug the wall to keep distance between them, making sure he's always turned away from the warmth of Finn so he doesn't clue into the fact that Poe has a raging boner that won't quit.

 

But now he imagines, far too often, a world where it's different. He imagines the joy of waking up to Finn’s arms wrapped around him, imagines the feel of sleepy morning kisses where they’re too happy and content to worry about what their breath is like. He imagines that he wakes up spooning a Finn who has been awake for a while, fully aware that Poe is rock hard against him, but he doesn't care, he thinks it's funny and cute, and when Poe blinks awake, Finn reaches for him with a smile and there's morning sex, and showering together, and walking to breakfast together instead of finding each other in the mess hall.

 

Poe imagines the kind of presents he’d buy Finn, if it were appropriate to do so, thinks of all the fun, weird, quirky things he’s found in markets across the galaxy, and how Finn has probably never even shopped in a market in his life. Poe thinks of how hard Finn would laugh at things Poe might give him, how his eyes would sparkle, how he’d plant a grateful kiss on him, right in front of everyone.

 

He thinks about a life where there’s no war. That’s not something Poe’s really done before either, considering a future and what it would look like. Maybe because he assumed he’d just be alone, a sad, old bachelor who missed the days where he lived with a thousand other people and was always surrounded by his friends.

 

But now there’s Finn, and he can picture having an actual _place_ with him. They could learn how to cook with real ingredients, and compliment each other’s efforts even when it tasted like shit. They could drink wine on a sofa, and have a fireplace and maybe a pet at their feet. Some people had that. Maybe they could have it too.

 

That's another awful part of this being-in-love crap. Poe had always liked himself quite a bit. He knew he was funny and daring and smart and  _cool._

 

And now he does not feel that way, not even a little bit.

 

He feels like a damn _fool_ almost all of the time, and it's  _awful_ and yet somehow as stupid as he feels, all the minutes with Finn still feel so much better than anything he's ever had before. 

 

It’s so pitiful. It really is.

 

The fantasizing gets more extreme with each day that passes, and Poe can hardly stand it.

 

He _needs_ Max. He really does.

 

Max will snap him out of this.

 

Frustrated, Poe makes a quiet pledge to himself that he will enjoy this visit to the fullest. He pledges to make Max fuck him into oblivion,  fuck him so hard he forgets Finn exists, if only for a moment. He wants to see if he can salvage the person he was before Finn, to try and get some kind of normalcy back. It's worth a shot.

 

_You can do this, Dameron. You can do this._

He says it to himself a lot, but there's not much of him that believes it. 

 

_\---_

 

Poe is moving through an empty hallway when he feels a hand a strong hand come down on his waist. He stops short and breathes in a familiar, musky scent that tells him who it is before he can even turn around to check.

 

“Hey,” comes a voice, low and sultry in his ear, and then Poe feels teeth nip it briefly. That's one of his _spots,_ as Max knows well. A stubbled chin rests on his shoulder. “Now, there’s a sight for sore eyes.”

 

“You know, I get that a lot,” Poe says, leaning into the touch in spite of all the strange Finn-related thoughts that have been hurting his head all day. Max is solid and muscular behind him, and the embrace feels good. “I _am_ incredibly handsome.”

 

“Ew,” Max says, and shoves Poe towards a wall. Poe feels the rush of heat that is his typical response to Max’s natural roughness. He turns around fast, grinning broadly, ready to roughhouse if that’s what’s happening, ready for whatever Max has in store for him.

 

“Your ego is as disgusting as ever, I see,” Max says, stepping close until Poe is fully backed against the wall. He leans his body into Poe’s, and Poe drinks in the sight of him. He’s just as ridiculously hot as ever. The stubble is a little thicker than he usually keeps it, but Poe’s always enjoyed the scrape of it on his skin. There’s a hint of dark circles beneath striking green eyes, but they do little to diminish his raw beauty. Poe swallows.

 

“Don’t even care,” Max says, voice low and scratchy. “I’ll put up with as much blatant self-aggrandizing as you wanna throw at me, Dameron. Do you know how hard it is to find action when you’re neck deep in First Order scum all day, every day?”

 

Max throws around comments like that a lot, and he’s never looking for sympathy when he does, but Poe can’t help but feel it anyway and bites his lip. “Can’t say I do, man," he says quietly, shaking his head. He reaches forward, takes Max by the wrist, rubs his thumb across it. "It must really suck.”

 

“Yeah,” Max says, expression darkening for a minute. “It does.”

 

They’re not going to talk about it. They never talk about it. Poe is supposed to be an escape from all that. Poe sees Max shake his head, can basically _see_ him bury it all down somewhere. Then he’s grinning down at Poe. “So yeah, speaking of sucking, I’m definitely gonna need _a lot_ of it before I head out. Gonna put that pretty mouth of yours to the test, Dameron.” 

 

Poe laughs, reaches out to tug at Max’s collar. “Yeah? I'll take that challenge. Been a while for me too,” he mutters, pulling him closer, but not quite to his lips.

 

“Shit, Poe,” Max exhales, and Poe feels the hot rush of breath against his lips. “I just wanna throw you into the nearest supply closet and tear this shit right off,” he growls, fisting at Poe’s shirt and pulling it and maybe a button pops, but before Poe can figure it out, Max then takes a step back. “Still. We’d better hold out a bit longer, yeah? If I don’t bring your pilots their booze delivery I’ll never hear the end of it. That Pava of yours is surprisingly terrifying.”

 

“You have no idea,” Poe laughs, but even though the proximity to Max already had him semi-hard, he feels something like relief too, that they're not going to fuck right away. It's not uncommon for them to take an afternoon quickie before having drinks with the rest of the pilots, but Poe doesn’t feel quite ready to do that today, and he's perfectly aware of why. “Yeah, man, let’s go get trashed. This new recruit, Hyder, taught me a wild game he picked up on Ord Mantell. You're gonna love it.”

 

“Good thinking,” Max says, and puts a hand on the small of his back, guiding them down the hallway to the preferred rec room of the pilots. “You know, you’re actually a lot smarter than you look, Dameron.”

 

“Fuck off,” Poe grins and allows Max to man-handle him down the hall a bit, feeling surprisingly optimistic.  

 

\--

 

After a few drinks, Poe has just about gotten himself into a good headspace about this Max thing. There’s no reason not to enjoy his visit thoroughly. Finn is _just a friend_ , a friend who is very much in love with someone else and very unaware that Poe has an excess of feelings for him. 

 

Nothing is going to happen there. They are not a couple, and they're never going to be one. Poe is going to respect the greatest friendship he’s ever had, and stifle the rest of it until it goes away. There's no reason not enjoy thoroughly excellent sex with someone who knows exactly how to work his body. 

 

In fact, there is a distinct possibility that reminding himself how excellent sex with something besides his own hand can be might help in the process of _getting the fuck over it._

 

He’s got needs, and Max can fulfill them. Real good. And it’s not like he and Max are a _thing_ or anything. He likes him a lot, and knows Max likes him too, but there’s nothing heavy or _real_ between them, no commitment, no obligations. They see each other a few times a year, and their chemistry is pretty electric, but that’s really all there is to it. Max wouldn’t be wounded to know he’s in love with another man (not that Poe has any intention of telling him, of course, because they don’t do feelings).

It’s not like he’d be doing Max wrong by fucking him in spite of being in love with someone else. That's not what their relationship is. 

 

It’s all going to work out fine.

 

He loves Finn. There’s no point in denying it, but it will be _nice,_ for just one night, to forget about the beautiful, magnificent person he can’t have and enjoy the company of someone he  _can._

 

So he plays cards with his friends. He let’s Max sling an arm around him and pour drinks for him and mutter funny comments in his ear and grope him under the table, and it’s _fun._

 

He’s drunk and happy and Jess is doing _ridiculous_ impressions of the council and Poe is able to remember a time before Finn shook up his whole world, a time when things were simple and easy and _fun._

 

At least, he is until Finn shows up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn observes Poe and Max together and feels confusing things.

 

When Finn arrives, his friends are already pretty sloshed. They’re a bunch of fairly jovial people in general, but he can tell from across the room that there’s a different kind of energy going on, that they’re being way louder than usual and just seem really, really happy.

 

Finn feels a rush of excitement.

 

The Resistance has priorities and people tend to save their booze for special occasions, but when they do bust it out, they’re generous. Particularly towards Finn, who never had a drink in his life prior to linking up with the Resistance. Poe and his pilots took that to be a great tragedy, and he blamed them for the embarrassment that came with his first night of drinking. The few occasions after had been much better, though his reputation for being a lightweight persists and everyone finds it hilarious.

 

He wonders what the occasion is as he strolls towards them, and hopes it isn’t someone’s birthday that he didn’t know about.

 

He remembers how bad he felt when it was Snap’s birthday and he had no idea, but Poe had caught his eye and quickly thrust a present towards Snap saying “ _from me and Finn both,”_ later apologizing for not telling Finn ahead of time.

 

Finn finds himself smiling as he thinks about the gesture, but hopes Poe won’t need to save him again. He’s never had a chance to buy or make a present for someone before, and he really wants warning in time for the next birthday. Poe promised he would give him one.

 

When he reaches their table, he realizes there’s a new face present, a sandy-haired guy with a stubbled jaw and a broad chest, seated between Poe and Jess.

 

“Hey,” he says, slipping into an empty chair beside Snap and he’s met by a chorus of “FINN!” by people who are way too excited.

 

He smiles. “Looks like you’re having quite the party.” There are cards strewn across the table, many of them wet and sticky. Everyone has a full glass and there are two bottles of unlabeled brown liquor on the table.

 

“Here’s a face I don’t know,” drawls the man sitting next to Finn, glancing at him. “Who’s the newbie?”

 

Finn braces himself to blush.

 

Poe has introduced him to more people he can count by now, and if it’s someone they’re going to spend more than a couple of minutes with, he almost _always_ launches into the story of Finn’s rescue, usually with lots of grand details.

 

It’s pretty awesome, the way Poe lights up and talks about Finn like he’s the most heroic person who ever lived. It’s a little different every time, different turns of phrase to describe his feelings when he heard Finn tell him ‘ _This is a rescue_ ,’ or how insane it was that Finn adapted to the TIE fighter so fast, how he managed to complete the mission Poe couldn't, saving his droid and the map within.

It kinda makes his chest constrict with pride whenever Poe starts going on about it- but it's also deeply embarrassing. If Finn even tries to downplay any of it in his sheepishness, Poe tells him ‘ _shut it, buddy, I’m telling the story’_ and sometimes even claps a hand over his mouth.  

Poe doesn’t leap into another dramatic retelling of the tale this time though. Instead he turns to the guy and says, “This is Finn. Newest addition to the crew. We’re getting him trained up now. He’s pretty much amazing at everything he tries. Hell of a gunner. ”

The other pilots at the table nod in agreement. Finn tries not to feel weird that Poe didn’t tell the story. That’s pretty pitiful of him, wanting his ego stoked like that. Of course Poe’s going to stop telling it eventually...and everyone here has already heard it way too many times, besides this new guy. Plus, Poe had paid Finn a super nice compliment too. So why is Finn feeling so-

 

There had been something stiff about Poe's delivery.

 

That was it.

 

Everyone at the table seems really relaxed, cheery, grinning, just like Poe is most of the time. But right now, he… _isn’t?_ He seems tense. Finn wonders at it, but doesn’t want to seem like a weirdo, so he extends a hand across the table.

 

“Good to meet you…” he says, waiting for a name.

 

“That, my friend, is Max Atlo," Snap offers, smiling broadly. The man takes Finn's hand in a strong handshake and Snap continues. "He runs intelligence for us. It’s highly important top secret shit, but that’s not the main reason we like him. Max brings us booze. He brings us stories. And he brings us stories _about_ booze. And all sorts of hijinks. And he brings us booze.”

 

Finn glances at Max, sees him cast a wink across the table towards Snap and lean back in his chair a bit. “Yep, I’m a regular hero to the downtrodden and liquor-deprived of the galaxy. My finest accomplishment.” A chorus of laughter goes around the table.

 

“Hear, hear! To Max, who brings the booze and who we love,” Bastian says, raising his glass. Then he raises an eyebrow. “Some more so than others.” Bastian throws a pointed look in Poe’s direction and Finn finds himself following the gaze.

 

“Gross,” Max grins into Poe’s ear, and Finn is suddenly aware of how _close_ they’re sitting to one another. “We don’t _love_ each other. I love his _abs_ , maybe- could cut kyber crystals on these things,” He looks at Poe, flicks him hard in the stomach and actually _licks his lips. "_ His mouth ain't bad either." 

 

Finn shifts in his seat.

 

_Oh._

 

Okay.

 

“You’re a bigger suck up than my pilots, Atlo,” Poe says with a laugh, swatting him on the hand and shifting in his seat to look around the table. His gaze travels, but seems to skip right over Finn, which is fine, because Finn doesn’t feel particularly prepared for eye contact at the moment.  

 

“What are you talking about, Sir?” Jess says, batting her eyelashes at him. “Everything we say to you is one hundred percent genuine all the time.”

 

“Seriously,” Bastian says, far too sweetly. “You’re the _best_ Poe.”

 

“Right,” Poe says dryly, reaching to pick up a mess of cards on the table. “Let’s see if you’re still willing to say that when I’ve cleaned you out of all your credits. Want in, Finn? I’ll happily deal you in and take your money too.”

 

He’s smiling, but Finn thinks maybe Poe’s still not meeting his eyes. Or maybe Finn’s not trying particularly hard to meet his.

 

“Sure,” he says, and Poe starts to deal the cards while Bastian grabs an extra glass and passes him a drink. He takes it, glad to have something to do with his hands other than twist them about under the table.

 

Finn tries to focus on the game, but Poe and Max are very distracting. There are people around the base who get a little heavy on public displays of affection, especially when there's a big fight coming up, and Finn's been getting used to seeing it... but these pilots, the ones Finn spends the bulk of his time with- they generally don’t. 

 

And before that, in the First Order- well obviously there was never anything like this. The only human faces he ever saw were those of cold superior officers, and he definitely never saw any of them nuzzling at each other's necks the way Max seems to keep nuzzling Poe. 

 

He’s glad they're playing a game they’ve already taught him, because he knows he wouldn’t have a hope of learning new rules, with all the thoughts rolling around his head.

_Who is this guy? Who is he to Poe, exactly? Why hadn’t Poe ever mentioned him before? Finn and Poe talk a lot. They talk about so many things. But Poe never said anything about a - what? Boyfriend? Lover?_

 

Max's hands are _everywhere_ , not the slightest hint that he’s bashful or embarrassed. And no one else is batting an eye as he touches Poe all over, casual and affectionate at once, reaching over several times to pull Poe’s hair as he makes some sly comment about the game, draping an arm around his shoulder from time to time. Once he leans over and _bites Poe’s ear._

It makes Finn want to squirm in his seat, but even though no one seems to be reacting to anything _Max_ is doing, he feels like everyone has eyes on _him,_ like they’re looking for reactions out of him, and he’s certain he’s not just imagining it.

Maybe they expect him to react badly to it because- because he’s from the First Order, because they’re two men. That's definitely _not_ it. That they could possibly think so is awful to him, and Finn wants to make sure no one takes his stiffness the wrong way.

 

He _is_ having a reaction to it, but it’s not- I mean, he’s seen people of the same gender who are clearly involved around the base- there’s nothing wrong with it. People should find happiness where they can.

 

Happiness. It’s plain this Max guy brings happiness in droves whenever he comes. Finn gets hints in the conversation that Max does deeply dangerous work- he’s infiltrated the First Order, has climbed the ranks, has gathered crucial intel at great risk to himself- but it seems at odds with how he carries himself at the table.

 

Everyone is drawn to him. He’s the center of attention. All the pilots are keen to ask him questions, laugh at his jokes, pour him drinks.

 

Snap hadn’t been lying about the stories.

 

Max tells a _lot_ of them. The guy oozes charm and charisma, pure confidence. Finn had always thought of Poe as the most confident person he’d ever met, but this Max guy clearly has him beat. The squad hang on every word he says.

 

He says haughty, arrogant things almost every time he opens his mouth, but it’s always with an easy smile and eyes that twinkle, a nudge in Poe’s ribs or in Jessika’s. He makes them laugh with such ease, and Finn forces himself to laugh along too... even though there’s this weird feeling creeping in that he doesn’t really like the guy.

It's _very_ weird.

He’s liked everyone he’s ever met since joining the Resistance and there’s no good reason not to like him. He’s friendly and handsome and brave. A hero. Finn should like him.

After three rounds of the game, Finn realizes that the sick feeling in his stomach isn't going away, and he really, really doesn’t want to be there anymore. He hasn't wanted to since just after he sat down.

 

“So there I am,” Max is saying. “Laying as flat as I can in the back of this Klatoonian truck, and it’s sweltering because this planet is 60000 degrees, and I know I’ve got a good two hours to go, when all of a sudden one of the damn crates falls over right on top of me. I kid you not, that thing was full of the foulest smelling liquid I’ve ever smelled in my life. Like someone threw ten day old dead fish into a blender with used gym socks. Now, I’m not a man who cries, but there may have been tears that day. I couldn’t exactly tell, because I was _drenched_ in this fish juice.”

Max pauses the story to allow everyone to chime in with their ‘ughs’ and ‘oh noooos’ and pained laughter, then continues. “So obviously, I cannot continue wearing these clothes, and I have a pack with a spare set so I start to strip down, gagging up a storm. Finally, just as I get naked as the day I was born, I realize the truck’s not moving. So I dive for my blaster, and sure enough the back door slides up and _right_ there is a fucking squadron of First Order troopers with their-”

 

“You okay, Finn?” Snap asks when Finn stands up abruptly. All eyes are on him now, and Finn feels his face go hot.

 

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, I just- think the booze is hitting me a little hard. Think I might go lie down for a bit.”

 

“Awww," Ziff says, reaching over to pat Finn's shoulder. "Little Finny’s not known for being able to hold his liquor. I think your stuff might be killing him, Max. Finn, you need some help finding your way back?” Ziff asks kindly, but Finn shakes his head. He just wants to get out of there, as quick as he can.

 

“Nah, I’m- I’m good. Just- see you all later,” he says. “Enjoy the night.”

 

There’s a chorus of _bye Finn, take care of yourself, drink water,_ but Finn’s not entirely aware of who is saying what as he stumbles towards the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the sweet and helpful feedback so far! Please let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again for the kind feedback! I see the angst is killing you a bit, but I must warn you I'm going to torment these babies a bit more before the end...

Poe’s lying on his back in his room. Max is beside him. They’re at the point where their breathing has started to slow, both having been sucked off to completion.  Even with all the shit going on in his head, Poe hasn’t had any hands on his body but his own since the last time Max was here, and he’d come hard and fast. At least it was more or less the same for Max. 

 

Neither one of them is as young as they once were, and there’s a need for some recovery time in between.

 

When they first got together, there was lots of touching and handsiness in between rounds, and they’d be good to go again pretty quick, but over the years they’ve fallen into a routine.

 

They get each other off with hands and mouths whenever they first get back to his room, then chill out for a bit as they get ready for the main event.

 

Sometimes that involves more drinking, sometimes it means a quick snooze and sometimes it means sleepy conversation or maybe watching a holo.

 

Poe finds himself hoping that sleeping is on the menu today- or at least, Max sleeping while he stays awake with a million thoughts bouncing around head.

 

Fat chance.

 

After not very long at all, Max turns on his side, reaches out and drums his fingers on Poe’s bare chest. “So. Dameron. Are you gonna tell me what the deal is with your new boy or do I gotta drag it out of you?”

 

Fuck. Not  _the_ new boy.  _Your_ new boy.

 

He can hear amusement in Max’s voice and can feel his eyes on him, but Poe decides it’s best if he continues to stare at the ceiling, pretend he’s sleepy, and has absolutely no idea who Max could be talking about.

 

“Huh?” he asks, trying his best to sound tired and uninterested. Max lets out a laugh and Poe feels the gush of it on his neck.

 

“Nice try,” Max says. “I guess you wanna do this the hard way. Fine by me. I can be very explicit. Poe Dameron. Are you going to tell me what’s up with the extremely hot young guy who showed up at the table and made you change your entire demeanor the second he did? Are you gonna tell me about _Finn?”_

 

Double fuck. There’s no playing dumb now.

 

Poe shifts to his side, turns to face Max better, even though it’s the last thing he wants to do. “Um. Sure. I guess I can. What do you wanna know?”

 

He tries to play it like he’s still a bit confused, even though he knows Max is way too sharp and he was _way_ too obviously different as soon as Finn showed up for this pitiful facade to last.

 

“Well- I’ve got some versions of it already. The General gave me the clinical breakdown. It came up during the briefing. I got that he’s an ex-Stormtrooper who busted you out when you got nabbed on Jakku. Heard he helped return the Skywalker map and bring down Starkiller. She called him a good man and an asset. She’s hoping I can try and get more intel on troopers, how the conditioning works, what it looks like at different ages, all that.  You’ve probably heard.”

 He has.

Leia has revealed bits to him, asked him to get what he can out of Finn, if he can...but under no circumstances to let on why. Rescuing the men and women like Finn who are victims of the First Order will be a massive, massive undertaking and they shouldn’t get his hopes up, not this early, not when there’s so much more to do.

It’s hard. He understands her rationale, but sometimes Finn gets this sad, faraway look on his face and Poe feels certain he’s thinking about the people he left behind, who were also stolen away, robbed of their families, their memories, their lives. There are a lot of ways he can be a comfort to Finn, but easing those thoughts isn't one of them, and it hurts to think of him hurting. 

 

He’s jolted out of his own head when Max continues.

 

“Pava, on the other hand, told me a somewhat less clinical version. Lots of interesting details to ponder.”

 

“Kriff,” Poe says, shutting his eyes.

He’d seen the two of them engaged in a private chat earlier, when he’d been caught up in some stupid debate with Snap and Bast. He should have known no good could come of that, should have slipped away to shut it down. “I hope you’ve learned by now not to take anything out of that woman’s mouth at face value.”

 

“Dunno about that,” Max says. “She’s a sharp girl, that one.”

 

“What did she tell you?” Poe asks, not even wanting to know. He’s gonna chew her out for it for sure. Give her some real shit jobs to do. He’ll have his vengeance, not that it matters now.

 

The damage is done. He wonders how bad it is.

 

“How about you tell me your side first?” Max asks. 

 

“I- I’m not sure what there is to say. Finn is...an amazing kid,” he says. That’s safe. That’s true. “They wanted to force him to kill, and he wasn’t having it. He busted me out right before I was about to be executed, and helped finish off my mission when I couldn’t. He found his way to the base and he’s been around ever since. I owe him my life. The least I could do was bring him into the family. So uh, that’s it. He’s great. He’s learning a lot. Fitting in with everyone. Good guy to have around.”

 

Max laughs again, shaking his head.

 

“ _What?”_ Poe asks, indignant. He hadn’t said anything questionable. Or laughable. He'd done good.

 

As if reading his mind, Max grins, “It’s what you’re _not_ saying that gives it away, dumbass. That was the most carefully constructed string of bullshit I’ve ever heard. I mean, yeah, it’s my _job_ to be able to read people, but I’m pretty sure a six year old could figure out what’s going on with you.”

 

“What exactly is it you think is going on?” Poe asks, strained, stomach twisting uncomfortably.

 

“You’ve got it _bad,_ Dameron,” he says. “Worse than I first thought, even.”

 

“I don’t- I don’t have it-” he tried, but it was weak, and Max pounced on it, carrying on.

 

“You went stiff as a board as soon as he showed up. The whole time, you were bouncing back and forth between staring and him and doing everything you could _not_ to look at him. And you became pretty unresponsive to physical contact, which is definitely atypical behavior of you, my notorious horndog. To name just a few of the more obvious signs.”

 

Poe wants to argue, but he can tell by Max’s expression it would be totally futile. He _knows_ stuff. He always knows stuff.

 

There have been times where Max comes back and he'll just point at someone across the mess hall, lean in close to Poe and go _T_ _hat guy there. You’ve hit that, right? I can totally tell._  Except, in those situations Poe would just give him a smirk and say _yeah_ , and answer questions about his dick size and prowess in bed before they moved along.

 

He never squirmed. Blushed.  _Avoided._

 

“So going back to my question- what’s the deal? Why are you in here with me instead of with him?”

 

Max isn’t mad or upset. He’s simply curious.

 

The question is a stab in the gut.

 

“ _Because,”_ Poe says, pained. “It’s not _mutual._ Look, I'll admit it.  I...kind of have a...a bit of thing for him. It’s hard not to. He’s just so… _”_ he says, struggling to get the words out.  “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m trying to get a hold on it. Squash it down. It’s taking some work but- I’ll get there..”

 

“Why?” Max prods. “Why squash it down?”

 

“There’s-” Poe starts, and has to swallow down a lump in his throat before he can go on. “There’s a girl.”

 

Max nods, and Poe understands this isn’t the first he’s hearing of it. “The one they sent to bring back Skywalker.”

 

“Yeah. They- they went through some stuff and- he loves her. I’m sure of it. So that's it. He never _asked_ for me to feel the way I do about him and it’d be entirely unfair to- to get in the way... or make him uncomfortable. So, I just need to...deal,” he says. He feels pathetic. He _is_ pathetic. “It’ll be okay,” he says, but he doesn’t feel like it will be.

 

“She’s been gone a long time, Poe. No word on when she’ll be back, either,” Max says, running a hand through Poe’s hair.

 

He’s trying to give him hope, but Poe doesn’t feel any of it.

 

“It- it doesn’t matter. He’s my _friend,_ Max,” he sighs. “A _great_ friend. I’m lucky to have him. That has to be enough.”

 

Max watches him for a moment before he speaks again, and Poe's not sure what's going on behind his eyes. 

 

“You know, the way Pava describes him, he’s a regular ray of sunshine. What was it she said? He’s got ‘a smile that lights up a room.’ She’s kind of a tough, critic too, isn’t she? But she went on and on. Warm. Friendly. Kind. Eager,” Max says. “Adjectives for days.”  

 

Poe sighs.

 

Even with pain and longing it’s been coupled with as of late, there’s no denying that warmth really _does_ seep into his bones at the mere thought of Finn. “Yeah. Yeah. That’s Finn, alright. To a T.”

 

“That’s what I hear. Ziff said some similar things, when we went for a piss. But that’s not what I saw today, though,” Max says, still playing with Poe’s hair absentmindedly. “He seemed... pretty standoffish. Stiff. As stiff as _you_ were.”

 

That gives Poe pause.

 

He’s not wrong. Finn hadn’t seemed exactly himself during the short bit of the game he’d stuck around for.

 

True, Poe had been determinedly avoiding direct eye-contact with him for a lot of it, but it was impossible to miss the fact that he was much less chatty than usual. Finn had more friends on the base than Poe did at this point. He made it his mission to go talk to people when he had a spare minute, to learn about their lives lives and listen to their stories, to learn more about the galaxy through their eyes.

 

But he hadn’t exactly made an effort to get to know Max. And then he’d left. Pretty abruptly.

 

He had a sudden, awful thought.

 

“That doesn’t mean- for all we know he could’ve been...disturbed. Disgusted. Who knows what garbage the First Order’s fed him about this kind of thing? Could be they’ve shoved some shitty propaganda his way and he...”

 

“Bullshit,” Max says. “It’s more than just Pava who made it clear the kid adores you. He’s as kindhearted as they come. That’s what Ziff said. Try for another excuse, Dameron, because I can’t see him feeling _disgust_ towards you just because you’ve got a preference for dick. Besides, even if they did try to push that... isn’t telling the First Order to fuck off with their evil bullshit one of Finn's defining qualities?”

 

“I guess,” Poe admits. “But still- that’s doesn’t mean- there’s still nothing on his end, okay? He’s holding a torch for Rey. I know he is. And he's loyal. It's not ever going out.” 

 

“Look, Poe. I don’t know him. I’m not trying to tell you what to do with your life. I won’t go on about it if you feel like it’s making a tough situation harder, but my gut says there was something in his reaction. It felt like jealousy. Or at least confusion.”

 

Poe doesn’t want to dare to believe it. Max is insightful, sure, but he didn’t see the look on Finn’s face when he woke up to realize Rey was gone, and no one knew when she’d come back. He was devastated.

 

“So,"  Max says. "You never told him you’re gay?”

 

“No,” Poe says.

 

He knows that’s weird.

 

He’s never tried to hide it before.

 

And he wasn’t _hiding_ it, exactly.

 

He just- he’s never wanted to talk about anything even close to romantic with Finn because he feels too raw about..everything. He’s always been too afraid Rey would come up, and he’d have to hear Finn voice things about her aloud. He’s not sure he can take hearing them. “It- it never came up.”

 

Max nods, not talking, though Poe is aware he’s got a lot of thoughts going on in that head of his.

 

Poe sighs. “I must have lost some major cool points with this shit, eh? Pining and moping over someone I can’t have? Blabbering on about my feelings?”

 

He buries his head against Max’s arm. “Max- I’m sorry- if things are- have been different between us ‘cause of it. You shouldn’t have to deal with this, when you’ve got so little time away…”

 

Strong arms wrap around him.

 

“Got news for you, Dameron. You never had many cool points to begin with. You’ve always tried to play it like you’re tough but I knew you were soft the moment I met you. I knew you wouldn’t stick with this casual life forever. It’s not who you are. I knew sooner or later you’d find someone. That it would _click_  and you’d go domestic. Too many signs. The way you talk about your parents. The way you look after your squad. I always knew I’d come back one day, and you’d have someone real.”

 

“Stop,” Poe says, his chest aching. “I- I don’t _have_ Finn. Please don’t say that I do. I told you, we’re not like that-”

 

“You keep saying it. Not sure I believe it. But, either way, I think you’re aware now of what it is you really want.”

 

Poe scrambles to get a grip on this conversation again. “Max, I’m- I’m happy with what we’ve got-”

 

“Hey,” Max says. “I’m happy with it too. But I never expected it would last. Don't feel like it has to. Poe, even if- even if I was able to stick around for longer, if I could find some other role in the Resistance I was good at, I’m not fit for a settled life. But you are. And I think you want it and I think you’ve grown up enough to realize that.”

 

It’s true.

 

Poe doesn’t feel _that_ old, but he is getting on in years, and well- he _is_ going soft.

 

He’s starting to look at people chasing their kids around base and feel a pang. A desire to give a kid the gift of a good life, of kind parents and steady love. To emulate the best of his parents, to guide a young person through the trials of growing up.

 

But the fact that Max is implying it's a thing he could have with _Finn_ , when he knows he can’t- it’s a torment.

 

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s what I want. But I’m not gonna get it with Finn.”

 

“I wouldn’t bet against you, Dameron,” Max says, a hand on Poe's cheek. “I’m telling you, if next time I get back here and find out you’re hitched and shacked up together, I won’t be a bit surprised. And I won’t be mad. You deserve a good life with someone. You deserve something warm.”

Even though he hates that Max is making his fantasies worse by saying them aloud, he’s touched by how kind he’s being, how understanding. He knows Max has some shit buried deep, shit he’s only ever gotten glimpses at, but he feels a surge of hope that maybe someday, when things are better, maybe Max might find himself some serenity, and a person he can reveal those hard things to, a person he can be really vulnerable with. 

 

Then Max is grinning, nudging him. “Just- keep an ear to the ground for me, right? Do some recon. Figure out what hot young things around here would be down to help a gorgeous hero of the Resistance with some stress relief.  Then when I get back, you can send him my way and I don’t have to waste limited time on the prowl.”

 

Poe can’t help but roll his eyes at that.

 

“Max. I’ll - I'll still be around when you get back. It’ll be like it’s always been _. Seriously._ This...crush isn’t going anywhere. _”_

 

Max shakes his head. “At the risk of inflating your ego- and because for the first time since I’ve known you it actually seems like it _needs_ some inflating- you’re a _catch,_ Dameron. Stop selling yourself short," he says. Poe's cheeks color. It's not that often he gets such a genuine compliment out of Max.

"And _stop_ talking like you know everything going on in that kid’s head, because it’s obvious you’ve been avoiding risky topics like the plague. Get out of your own head for a minute," Max says, and gives him a light slap. "I’ve only been here a minute and I think I’m seeing clearer than you. I can tell the squad’s rooting for you, even if none of them besides Pava have the balls to bring it up. I think they might see some things you’re scared to let yourself see.”

 

Poe doesn’t answer. Max is a smart guy, but he can’t dare to believe he’s onto something.

 

“Poe,” Max says. Asks. It seems like a question.

 

Poe is tired, doesn’t want to deal with anymore painful, heavy shit tonight, but he makes himself ask, “Yeah?”

 

“Do you want me to...go? I- I had an inkling that something pretty serious was going on but I- well I didn’t bring it up. Because I wanted to come back here and- and get off. That was probably a mite selfish of me. I can go, if it’s weird. Bunk on my ship-”

 

“No,” Poe says, quickly. “No way. Stay. I want you to stay.”

 

Max does.

 

They don’t fuck- that would feel a bit too weird, now that so much about Finn had been aired, but Poe is glad to have him there. The thought of Max spending his one night where he isn’t surrounded by First Order monsters on his lonely ship makes Poe’s blood run cold. He’s glad he decides to stay.

 

They don’t talk about his feelings for Finn again- not explicitly, but they do share sleepy chatter.

 

They gossip about the squad, about the higher-ups in the Resistance. Finn comes up in stories because almost all Poe's stories since he last saw Max involve Finn in one way or another. Poe doesn’t try to hide how amazing he thinks Finn is, how adorable the things he says and does are. He knows it’s more obvious than ever, how much he’s mooning, but- well. It’s nice to be honest about it with someone.

 

Morning comes too soon, with neither of them having slept all that much.

 

They wake up reluctantly and munch snacks from the stash under Poe’s bed because they’re too lazy to go to the mess hall.

 

They watch a holo in bed, half paying attention.

 

Then it’s time for Max to go.

 

“Short visit,” Poe says as they dress. Even though things are a little different between them now, a familiar melancholy seeps in as he prepares for another goodbye.

 

“Yeah. I can’t be away too long. It looks suspicious.”

 

He walks Max to the hangar bay, as is their tradition.

 

Even with all the feelings he has for Finn, this part is just as awful as it always is.

 

Dread fills every last inch of him.

 

Every time he says goodbye to Max, he wonders if it’s the last time he’ll ever see him, and this is no different.

 

Max is far from their only spy in the First Order. And they’ve seen a lot of spies get caught. Caught and killed, in ways too horrible for Poe to think about, though he does, and does often. Even more so after his own capture and torture at their hands.

 

“Don’t look so glum, Dameron,” Max says as they walk. “You’ll ruin your face.” The words are another tradition, one that started years ago during an unpleasant walk through the halls on the way to goodbye. That was Max. Always trying to be light, to mask the dark.

 

They’re a little late getting to the hangar. Everyone’s finished up breakfast and several of the pilots are already at work on their ships.

 

Several of them wave at Max, calling out to wish him luck. A couple come up to clap him on the shoulder. Ziff gives him a hug that lasts a long time, and Max jokingly asks if Ziff is coming onto him. After a retort about how if he ever develops an interest in cock, Max will be his first, Ziff slips away again and they’re at Max’s ship.

 

They turn to look at each other.

 

“Be careful out there,” Poe says, heart heavy.

 

“I’ll try.  You too. Fly steady. ” Max says.

 

They look at each other for a moment, not speaking, but then Max gives him a lopsided grin. “Don’t look now,” he says, leaning closer, voice low and mischievous. “But your boy is totally checking us out right now.”

 

Poe’s cheeks grow hot. “What?” he asks. He wants to look, but forces himself not to.

 

Max nods. “Yeah. He’s over there helping Pava. Or at least, I think that’s what he’s _supposed_ to be doing. He appears very much focused on you and me instead.”

 

Poe can’t stop the little jolt he feels at that.

 

“Ohhhh yeah. He’s really staring," Max says. He takes step forward and puts hand on Poe’s hip. “Wanna make-out and see if it makes him jealous?” Max grins. Poe’s jaw drops a little.

 

“Kriff, Max!” he says, half-laughing in surprise. “That is- that’s so fucking _juvenile…_ and it wouldn't even- I highly doubt it would-”

 

“I’m not hearing a no,” Max says.

 

Before Poe can stop it, Max is planting one _hell_ of a kiss on him, open-mouthed, handsy, messy, and after a few seconds, he actually fucking _dips_ him like they're in some kind of romance holo.

 

Poe's arms go up to grip Max tighter, afraid he’s gonna fall on his ass if he doesn’t, and yeah- okay- he _is_ kissing back. It’s hard _not_ to kiss back when someone kisses you like that.

 

At last, Max pulls back, helps him get steady on his feet again. He’s grinning big. “Wow. Looks like his eyes are gonna pop out of his head.”

 

“That was...not a good thing to do,” Poe stammers, flustered and warm.

 

“We’ll judge that when I get back,” Max says with a wink. “Fifty credits says next time I’m here, you’ve got yourself something so lovey and shmoopy I’ll wanna barf.”

 

“I won’t,” Poe tries to insist, but Max just shakes his head.

 

“Take care of yourself, Dameron.”

 

“You too,” Poe says, and watches him leave, hoping that no matter who is right, that Max comes back, healthy and whole and one of them pays up.

 

Poe watches him go until his ship is  out out of sight, then turns, morose, to do some work on his own X-wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! I liked hearing the varied thoughts on Max and the wondering about how he'd react. He popped into my head pretty fully formed, and I guess this is the kind of person he is. He's a good guy. Just not THE guy for Poe. 
> 
> I guess I just feel like everyone in the galaxy has to ship stormpilot ;-) 
> 
> Anyway, these boys are going to act like fools for a bit longer. 
> 
> I know, I'm a monster. Feedback is love <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn continues to process his newfound knowledge of Poe's sexuality. They talk.

“Hey,” Finn says when he reaches Poe’s X-Wing. His palms are sweaty and his voice is a little shaky, but he knows if he doesn’t announce himself right away, he might never do it.

 

Poe had been wrapped up in his work and looked up with some surprise.

 

“Oh. Hey, buddy,” he says. Finn looks at his feet for a second, then looks back.

 

“I was helping Jess but- uh, she said she didn’t need me anymore. She suggested I come see if you wanted help with repairs.”

 

“She did, did she?” Poe asks, squinting across the hangar.

 

Okay, so Jess actually been downright rude about it. It may have started off as a suggestion, but very rapidly evolved into a strongly worded order.

 

Finn had been feeling highly reluctant to come over to Poe... for a lot of reasons he's still working through.

 

He’d asked if Jess three times if she was _sure_ she didn't want him to stay and help before she’d finally snapped ‘ _Sweetheart, I’m hungover as kriff, and your assistance, while appreciated, involves waaaay too much talking and feels far too much like babysitting when I have a hangover. So please, fuck off. Go help Poe. Before I strangle you.”_

 

Finn couldn’t very well defy her after that.

He thought about side-stepping her instructions a little- maybe going to see if he could help someone else, _anyone_ else, but he felt her eyes on him as he walked away, following him. Jess was kinda in charge when he wasn’t working directly with Poe and even if she wasn’t...he found her a bit too intimidating to get on the wrong side of.

 

So, despite his misgivings, he made his way over to Poe.

 

He’d had a pretty restless night, overall.

After leaving the pilots, he’d stumbled his way to his room, and spent half the night trying to process the influx of new information he’d just received, to incorporate it into all the other stuff he’d been thinking about lately, in a way that was...normal and acceptable.

 

It wasn’t easy. He still wasn’t there. He wasn't sure he'd ever get there, ever feel entirely normal again.

 

Which is why approaching Poe, for the first time in all the time they'd known each other, felt strange and uncomfortable instead of totally commonplace and nice.

 

So, Finn had never thought much about sex, during his time with the First Order.

 

He became aware, after leaving, that this was very likely by their design.

 

They gave him and every other stormtrooper a cocktail of drugs to swallow every day, and it was clear to him now that part of that mixture had gone into dulling his sex drive as well as his emotions.

Emotions were certainly a distraction, a thing that drew your attention away from where it was supposed to be. The mission. The Order. Sex was too, he supposed.

 

The Order may have had hard of a time squashing the emotion out of him, but he’s aware they were pretty damn successful in repressing his sexual urges.

 

By the time Finn woke up from his coma, however, all the drugs were very much out of his system, and...he definitely found himself getting hard. Often. Embarrassingly often. He read up on it a bit on the HoloNet, and was pretty sure he was dealing with some kind of belated puberty or something, and yeah, there were definitely more than a few inconveniently timed boners that were beyond his control in the early days.

 

In addition to dealing with all of _that_  another part of Finn was learning that he really, really appreciates faces.

 

There are so _many_ of them at the base, and they’re all so different, and _beautiful._

 

He loves them all.

 

He loves talking to older people, and seeing the wrinkles on their skin, loves wondering which lines are lines of laughter, what ones are of sorrow. He finds people are pretty interested in talking to him, kind and welcoming, and any free time spent not with Poe and the squad is spent starting up conversations with people around the base.

 

He tries to talk to someone new every day, to learn their stories. He makes it his mission. Old folks have great stories and seem genuinely thrilled that Finn wants to listen. They tell them in ways that make Finn’s heart twist with longing, as he wonders if he has grandparents somewhere, if they’re still alive, if they would have told him stories like the people here do.

 

He likes talking to kids too. There are plenty around, always getting underfoot, and they talk so _fast,_  which is fun, because Finn is kind of known for talking pretty fast himself and asking too many questions. So it’s fun interact with them, help them look up answers on the HoloNet because more often than not, he doesn’t know either. He loves how much joy there is in their expressions, their sparkling eyes and little grins, how quickly their interests shift, how excited they get when they see him in the halls or at meals, how they shout out his name and wave at him without any kind of inhibition. 

 

There are people of other species too- and that’s different. The only faces he ever got to see in the First Order were always human, and always either angry or expressionless.

 

He’d seen other species as they passed through villages and cities for their duties, but he never got to stop and look. To talk. He loves speaking to non-humans now, learning to interpret their facial expressions, to learn how to read their feelings based on little cues.

 

And then- then there are the faces in _his_ age range.

 

There are a lot of them. And a lot of them are really pretty. 

 

Finn always been a romantic.

 

All the conditioning and brainwashing in the galaxy couldn’t squash that out of him. Whenever he got a chance to be out in the world, he found himself drawn to families. Quite often he had a commander or fellow trooper hiss at him to keep moving as he slowed down to stare.

 

Mothers holding their kids. A man with his arm around his wife. An old couple, walking beside each other, so slowly, hand in hand.

 

He’d get into his pod to sleep at night and lay awake, thinking about love and what it might feel like to have it. Sex wasn’t ever part of the equation. He knew, vaguely, that it was a thing, but his longings were more for the general _warmth_ of people.

 

Finn knew there were lives that looked nothing like his. He knew there people in the world, who had homes instead of sterile hallways, who held each other’s hands and touched each other’s faces, who kissed and laughed together, who made families together and he _wanted_ that feeling, the one he only ever got glimpses of before being shoved along.

 

His ideas about both sex and love had been very, _very_ limited, before his escape. It’s almost more painful to think about that now, now that he’s free, than it was at the time. It’s only now, that he’s surrounded by love and laughter and kindness _all the time_ that he’s aware of how lonely he truly was. How  _alone_ he truly was.

 

His focus, at first, was pretty much on girls. There were _a lot_ of girls on the base, and a lot of them were beautiful, though none of them seemed quite as dazzling as Rey.

 

At first, that had been as far as his understanding went.

 

Men and women fell in love, and made lives together. That’s pretty much all he’d gleaned of the world during his life in the Order.

 

Only, it wasn’t as simple as that. Finn started to realize that pretty quickly.

 

There was a little girl, Zara, who befriended him a few weeks after he came out of his coma.

 

She was adorable and friendly, and had a lot of questions. He always said hello to her after that and she always ran up to him and gave him a hug.

 

After a couple of times seeing her in the mess hall, or playing out on the grounds, he realized that the two women she was always with were _both_ her moms. They loved her dearly, and it was clear they loved each other.

 

And then there were those two older men, the ones who always ate together.

At first, Finn thought maybe they were best friends, or relatives, but one day in the mess, they had something unexpectedly delicious for dessert, and Finn had glanced over and seen the bearded one feeding the other from his own spoon. He registered the expression between them from across the room, the softness in the way they smiled at each other, and realized they weren’t just friends.

 

He was learning about love and that it came in different forms.

 

He was also learning about sex.

 

From various sources.

 

Mostly Ziff, at first. One of the first members of the squad Finn met, Ziff was outgoing to the extreme, highly talkative and eager to follow through on Poe’s orders that they make Finn feel welcome.

 

Ziff was also a serious horndog. Sex was one of his favorite things to talk about, and talk about it he did.

 

A skilled artist, he seemed to use his talent to help him with picking up female company. Apparently, he’d taken “ _help Finn feel welcome_ ” to mean “ _force him to look at every page of your sketchbook of nude women, and tell him detailed stories to go along with each one_.”

 

That had been rough, trying to keep his cool when he was dealing with the comedown from the First Order drugs. He was fairly certain Ziff was fully aware of the effect his sketches had on Finn, and quite pleased with himself about it.

 

Snap talked to him about sex a little too, though he'd opened up a bit more slowly and spoke about it lot less crudely.

 

One day they’d been walking down the hall together. Snap realized this woman was heading their way and immediately shoved Finn down another corridor, explaining reluctantly that she was his ex and he couldn’t deal with passing her.

 

Snap didn’t get into it then, but over time, Finn learned that their relationship had ended badly, but Snap was still pretty deeply in love with her. Snap confessed that during the last party on base, they’d fallen back into bed together, and it was as amazing as ever and he hoped it meant they might get back together, but she hadn’t talked to him since.

 

So he was learning a bit about sex, and a bit about love.

 

And he was definitely aware that he wanted _both_ but- it was a bit overwhelming.  

With all the new stuff he was learning, all the work that had to be done around the base, he was trying to be content with just enjoying all the people he was getting to meet and how generously they were bringing him into their makeshift families. 

 

The thing was though... he’d never learned about any of it from Poe. He’d thought it a bit strange, considering how willingly Poe talked to him about everything else. He did wonder why it never came up between them, why Poe never talked about romantic relationships.

He knew, of course, that some people were more open than others. Ziff was definitely an oversharing anomaly. Most, he found, were more like Snap, or Bastian, slowly revealing bits about themselves during the natural progression of conversation.

 

Then there was Jess. She was definitely more closed off about it. They talked about lots of things, but her sex life, apparently was not up for discussion. Once Ziff tried to get her talking and she threatened to break his face with a ferocity that shut him up immediately.

 

So yeah, not everyone wanted to talk about their private lives.

 

That made sense.

 

But Poe- Poe wasn’t Jess.

 

Poe had told him a thousand stories, about his family, his friends, his childhood, about learning to fly. About camping with his dad and his fuzzy memories of his mom. But he never did talk about any...personal intimacy.

 

Finn was trying not to be hurt, and failing.

 

That Poe had never told him he was romantically involved with someone, when they’d shared so much...it stung.

 

He could admit that. Hurt was actually the _least_ confusing emotion he was dealing with at the moment.

 

He felt like it was okay to be a little hurt.

 

They were really good friends, and it was _strange_ that Poe hadn’t ever mentioned it to him. Finn wondered if Poe thought he couldn’t trust him with it, and that made him feel a little ill.

 

Finn would never judge him over something like that. He hoped with all his heart that wasn’t the reason Poe had held back.

 

But it was the feelings _beyond_ surprise hurt that were really messing with him.

 

He still wasn’t entirely sure about what all the stuff swirling inside him meant, but there was no denying that he’d felt something deeply negative twist in his gut when he’d realized Poe and Max were together, when he'd watched Max's hands roaming freely over Poe, when he'd seen them collide in that intense, powerful kiss, when he'd watched Poe watching Max walk away with a forlorn expression. It made him feel sick.

 

And it definitely wasn’t because Max was a man.

 

It was because he was a _person_ and he was _with Poe._

 

Jealousy.

 

Finn knew it was the name for the emotion, even though he’d never felt it before.

 

He had spent all night thinking about it, trying to work through what it meant. When he woke up from a fitful sleep, he found his unconscious brain had done the work from him as he slumbered.

 

A whole lot of disjointed thoughts all sort of clicked together at once and he wasn't able to deny what it meant.

 

Individually the thoughts were each pretty simple.

 

_Finn wants to be in love, someday. He wants it bad, and has known that all his life._

 

_Finn likes looking at faces, seeing their lines and scars and smiles and character._

 

 _Poe is his absolute_ favorite _person on the base._

 

_Poe’s face is one of his favorite faces. It's full of life and character and he's got a smile brighter than the sun._

 

 _When Poe sees him from across a room and grins huge, Finn always feels a rush of_ good _washing right over him,_   _feels it right to his core_.

 

_Poe is a man who is attracted to men._

 

 _Poe_ _has_ _a man in his life, that he is very clearly intimate with._

 

_Finn is sad Poe never told him that._

 

 _Finn is_ jealous _of this man who has Poe in the way he does. Even though Finn knows that is totally unfair and unkind after everything Poe has done for him, he feels it just the same._

 

_Finn has always wanted to be in love._

 

_Finn might be in love already._

 

_He might be in love with Poe._

 

“Um. Helloooo. Finn? Black leader to spaced-out person who just offered to help? You okay in there?” Poe says, jerking him out of his frenzied thoughts, waving a hand to get his attention.

 

Poe’s giving him a very odd look. Finn feels his face go hot.

 

“S-sorry, I was just...thinking,” he says. “Yeah, how can I help? What can I do?”

 

“I was just saying, maybe you could try to give this thing a good scrub,” he says, pointing to a hunk of metal. Finn is supposed to know the name of it, has been taught it by Poe and Jess and several other pilots, but right now his brain is too busy to be able to retrieve the name. “I need it to fit into the engine, right here but I think there’s too much crud on it or something. Wanna see if you can do anything about that?”

 

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” Finn says, and busies himself with finding a rag, glad for a reason to turn away and collect himself a little.

 

They work in silence for bit, and at least on Finn’s part, it’s extremely painful.

This is not the norm for them. They always have something to say, or maybe Poe sings a song quietly to himself, and Finn follows up with some questions about it- who sings that, what’s it about, where’s it from, I don't think I get what that line means?

And yeah, sometimes they do go quiet after a while and just do their work, but it’s never first thing in the morning and it’s never awkward silence.

 

He thinks he feels Poe’s eyes on him a few times, but whenever he snaps his head up, desperately hoping Poe will say something to break it up, he’s not, he’s just looking down at whatever he’s working on, and Finn tells himself it was wishful thinking.

 

Eventually Finn decides he _has_ to say something. About Max.

 

Even though it’s going to be painful, because he’s just worked out how all his feelings of friendship, gratitude and adoration for Poe fit together with his feelings about love and how much he wants it, and how they are very intricately intertwined.

 

It’ll be hard to hear, he thinks, but he wants to understand.

 

Poe might not have _wanted_ to tell Finn about Max, but he knows now, at least a bit, but he wants to know more even if knowing won't make him happier.

 

 “So. Did you guys have a good rest of the night?”  he tries at last.

 

Poe looks at him, first with an expression Finn can’t read but followed fairly quickly by a smile. “Oh yeah. It was fun. Ziff passed out at the table. Snap and Bastian had to carry him to bed. Jess wrote some rude things on his face that I can’t remember but- I’m pretty sure there are pictures. I think I might be pointing at him and laughing in them. Not exactly a shining moment of leadership for me.”

 

Finn does smile at that a little, in spite of everything, because he can see it all very clearly in his mind. 

 

“We were all sorry to see you turn in so early,” Poe adds.

 

 _Were you?_ Finn thinks, bitter. Another new emotion. _You barely_ looked _at me. And I mean- well why would you, when you had this insanely handsome, bad ass guy all over you but still, I doubt you even noticed I was gone-_

 

“Was...is everything okay?” Poe asks, concern written plainly in his deep eyes.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Finn says quickly. “Fine. Just- you know... typical lightweight Finn. That stuff hit me a little hard.”

 

“Okay. Good. Well, you seem alright this morning. You remember to drink water?”

 

“Yeah,” Finn nods, even though he had actually just landed face down on his bed as soon as he got inside and barely moved the whole night. “Unlike, Jess, who is currently very hungover and even crabbier than usual.”

 

Poe winces. “Eeesh. Buddy, you’re lucky you’re still alive. I should have warned you. She always goes a little too hard when Max brings the good stuff.”

 

There it is. He brought it up. He said the name. Finn has to ask now, before he loses his courage.

 

“So. That guy. Max. Is he like...your boyfriend?” he asks, and he knows he’s gone sweaty and hopes it’s not too obvious.

 

Poe looks at him for a moment that seems to go on for an eternity before he shakes his head. “Um. No. No, I wouldn’t call him that.”

 

Poe looks a little uncomfortable, but Finn wants to know more.

 

Because Ziff has a lot of girls he sleeps with that he says don’t mean a thing, and Snap once told him that the ex he’s still pining for is _everything_ and he just- he really needs to know who Max is to Poe, where he falls on this spectrum.

 

Whatever it is, he’s certain it isn’t _nothing_. He saw the way they kissed goodbye. Thinking of it makes his chest hurt, and in a strange way, makes his heart beat faster.

 

“So, then... he’s…?” he prods, not sure how to ask it, but wanting more.

Poe definitely appears not to want to have this conversation, but Finn needs to know.

“Well. I- I don’t know if there’s a name for it, exactly. There's not a lot of ...consistency possible. He’s- he’s a spy for the Resistance. He’s deep into the First Order. Posing as an officer. He goes away for months at a time, only comes through four or five times a year to deliver reports at most. I don’t think the term boyfriend really applies,” Poe says, shrugging a little.

The look they share seems _charged_ with something, but Finn doesn’t know what, just that he still doesn’t understand, but he desperately wants to.  

Poe, looking as uncomfortable as Finn feels, seems to realize he hasn’t sufficiently answered the question. “But um. When he does come back, we uh, make sure to see each other. Spend the night together. Two nights, if he can swing it, thought it’s not often he can.”

 

Oh. Okay.  

 

Finn still doesn’t know exactly what that means and he has more questions, but he doesn’t know how to phrase them,  what might be considered inappropriate and what might be considered prying.

 

“Does it...does it bother you?”

 

Poe has a look like he’s trying really hard to be neutral, but there’s something a scared and vulnerable in his eyes. It breaks Finn’s heart a little, that Poe could think there’d be any other answer but _no_ , and that Poe seems scared _._ _Of him,_ of his reaction.

 

“Or course not!” Finn says quickly, because even though he is actually pretty upset Poe could even _think_ that about him, he just wants Poe to feel okay, to know that he never has to be afraid of Finn judging him about anything.

 

Maybe he answered a little _too_ quickly, because Poe appraises him with a look that says he’s not entirely buying it. “You, uh... You seemed a little quiet last night.”

 

Finn shuts his eyes. Okay. Poe is seeing through it. He needs to be a little more honest. Not _entirely_ honest, because that would not be a good move but a _little_ more. “Sorry- I’m- look. It’s not- it’s not because he’s a man- or because you are two men, if that’s what you’re thinking. That’s- there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that," he says, and Poe's relief is immediately visible. "It’s just... there are a couple of things…”

 

“Tell me,” Poe says, and gives up the pretense that they’re still working on the X-wing, putting down his tools and coming closer. "What's going on?" His demeanor is much softer now, more relaxed.

 

“Well- there’s the fact that you didn’t tell me about it,” Finn says, truthfully. “I just- I mean... Ziff and Snap have told me about their girls. I would have thought if you had someone, you’d...”

 

Poe raises his eyebrows a little “You want me to tell you about Max like Ziff tells you about his girls?” He cracks a lopsided smile.

 

Finn is feeling raw, and not ready to see the humor, so doesn’t return it. Poe’s expression falters. “I just thought- friends usually _tell_ each other about that kind of thing? I don’t know, I mean- maybe I am clueless and have it all wrong-”

 

“No,” Poe interrupts. “You’re completely right, Finn," he says, running a hand through his hair, biting his lip, not meeting Finn's eyes." I...I don’t have any kind of good excuse for it. I should have told you." He looks up after that, though it seems to take him quite a bit of effort to look Finn in the eye as he says, "I’m sorry.”

 

He looks genuinely upset. There’s a _lot_ Poe's his eyes that Finn doesn’t know how to interpret, but he can tell Poe’s apology is sincere.

 

Finn shrugs a little. “It’s fine," he says, even though it's not, not completely. "I guess I was just...surprised?" He sighs, forces himself to go on. "It’s nice though. That he has you, and the other pilots to be with, when he comes back from that. He- he must be really brave, to do what he does.”

 

“Yeah,” Poe responds. “He is.”

 

Even though it’s a fact, it still hurts a little to hear Poe agree. Which isn’t right. The man _is_ brave. Finn thinks about how much he wanted to run away and never stop, when he first got away from the Order. The thought of having to purposely slip back among them, to spy, to risk being caught every day is enough to make him ill.

 

 “Is-is that all there is, Finn?" Poe asks, frowning a little. "That I didn’t tell you?”

 

“Mostly,” he says.

 

Poe looks at him questioningly, patiently. He knows there’s more, but he always let's Finn get to difficult things at his own pace.

 

Why does he have to have that expression that makes Finn feel so _safe,_ makes him feel like he can get out every single confusing thought that’s in his head?

 

There are some that he _can’t_ say out loud _._ The jealousy thing is definitely one of them.

 

Poe does _so much_ for him. He caters to him all the time, is constantly going out of his way to make sure Finn has whatever he needs... but he shouldn’t have to deal with _that._ He shouldn’t have to deal with Finn and this newfound but way-too-powerful _thing_ he has for Poe. Not when the person he’s intimate with has just gone off to spy among the enemy, with no way of getting in touch for months.

 

But Finn can- he _can_ tell him a little more. He can express some of the things he’s been worrying about a little, even before Max showed up.

 

“I guess- it still takes some getting used to... Seeing people together like that. Being... coupley. It wasn’t something that went on in the First Order, you know? And um, I guess it’s just... a reminder that- that I’ve never done anything, with _anyone,_ before, and it makes me feel- weird. Like I’m not...normal, or something. I’ve never had this thing that everyone else has.”

 

Poe gives him that _look-_ the one of utter heartbreak and fury- the one he gets whenever Finn reveals yet another thing he doesn't know anything about because of the life the First Order forced on him.

Poe doesn’t say anything, just steps forwardpulls him forward into a hug, his hand at the back of Finn’s head, cheek pressed against his. It’s brief, but it’s tight, and it makes Finn’s stomach flutter in a way it hasn’t before and he has to force himself not to sink too deeply into it.

 

“Fuck them. _Fuck_ them,” Poe says, shaking his head. “Finn. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with- I mean there are _plenty_ of people here who’ve never... for all _kinds_ of reasons. It’s absolutely okay.”

Finn nods a little. That’s...reassuring.

But there’s still the fact that he _wants_ to know what it’s like to feel close to someone. And that it’s suddenly abundantly clear that it’s not just a _vague_ someone, but a very specific someone.  

Poe is watching him, and can obviously tell he’s still got stuff going on inside.

 

The pilot chews his lip, then says, “Finn. Um, I might be able to help you out there... if you wanted. If it’s really bothering you.”

 

“ _What?”_ Finn asks quickly. His heart starts to thrash in his chest like a caged rancor.

 

Being helpful is...uh pretty typical Poe behavior, true. Whenever Finn reveals something he doesn’t know about, or can’t do, and Poe just puts a gentle hand on his shoulder and says, _don’t worry, buddy. I’ll help you figure it out_ and whatever it is, he _does,_ with patience and kindness.

 

But does that mean- _is he offering to_ -

 

But at his reaction, Poe quickly reddens and rushes out with, “I just meant- I mean if you want some- _advice_ on- on making a connection, or something. How to let someone know you were interested. Finn, you’re- there’s no shortage of people here who’d want to uh, get involved with the hero who gave the First Order the biggest ‘fuck you’ ever and helped destroy their deadliest weapon. If you wanted... experience, you...you could definitely get it.”

 

Oh.

Finn feels the wave of disappointment crash down on him.

 

Poe keeps talking, a lot faster and more flustered than usual, but Finn barely notices, because he’s coming down from the knowledge that Poe was most definitely _not_ referring to the kind of help his brain had first jumped to.

 

“I just mean...you know, the next time there’s a party or something. If there’s someone who, I don’t know, catches your eye, and you feel shy about- how to go about... I can, you know. Be your wing-man. I uh, ought to be good at it. I’m a pilot after all,” Poe shuts his eyes after that, cringing. “Kriff. I’m sorry. I must sound like a complete idiot. And a nosy one, at that. I’ll stop talk-”

 

“No,” Finn says. Seeing Poe in misery is enough to shake him out of his own, and he’s pulled by a desire to save Poe from his discomfort. “That’s- that’s a nice thought. Good idea. Um. Yeah. Maybe.”  

It’s a struggle to get the words out. He’s still feeling a heavy blanket of disappointment.  

Of _course_ Poe was offering to help him get with someone else, rather than offering to guide him through the steps of physical intimacy with his Poe Dameron brand of easy-going tenderness.

Obviously. The man literally   _just_ said goodbye to his boyfriend, who could very likely be going off to his death at the hands of fascist monsters. Of course he doesn’t want to give charity sex lessons to a clueless ex-stormtrooper.

 

Finn’s chest is tight. For all Poe’s claims that Max isn’t his boyfriend, it’s very clear that he cares about him a lot. He must be really worried about him.

 

“Okay. Cool,” Poe says and there is tension in the air between them, and that’s never happened before. "Finn, I really am sorry. Is there...anything else you want to clear?"

Finn shakes his head. "No. No, it's okay." 

 

There are a few moments of silence, and Finn starts up trying to clean off the engine part again. He hates how different things feel.

After a little while Poe speaks up, “So, you’ll never guess what song Jess sang at impromptu karaoke last night.”

Finn feels a rush of relief. Okay. They’re moving on. Good.

 It’s not over, all the stuff in his head, not by a long shot, but kriff, he wants to _try_ and be normal again.

 “Oh no,” he groans.  “The words ‘Jess’ and ‘karaoke’ in the same sentence can't add up to anything good... this is going to end with someone’s ears bleeding, isn’t it?”

 “No,” Poe says with a laugh that's a tad too loud. “Not _quite_ that bad, although she _was_ as spectacularly tone-deaf always. It’s just- she was singing ‘ _All Those Stars in Your Eyes,’”_

 

Finn made a face. “Eeesh. Really? That’s um, a little different than the usual screamy, angry rock ballads.”

 

“Yeah. It was _weird_ . I think she might have _cried_ a little. I’m telling you, whatever they do with that booze is _dangerous.”_

 

 _"_ Sounds like it. I can hardly imagine..."

 

"That makes you very lucky. For your own sake, I suggest you don't try," Poe grins. 

 

Okay.

So maybe the conversation starts off feeling a little forced.

Finn still has a lot of thoughts going on, and Poe is not quite his usual relaxed self either, but _eventually_ , they manage to find a stride that feels mostly normal, and by the end of the day, they’re both talking like they did yesterday, before Max showed up, and Poe's X-Wing is gleaming.

But at night, when he makes it to his bunk at last, Finn grapples with a new sense of longing that he can't will away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even I'm furious with them for being as stupid as they are. They have developed minds of their own. 
> 
> In the words of the great Han Solo, "It's not my fault!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I blame the fact that I just finished my first semester of grad school for the silly, possibly pointless, fluffiness of this chapter. 
> 
> It is quite goopy, but I wanted the boys to have some fun (not TOO much of course, there's still lots of pining to be done, but some). 
> 
> According to Wookieepedia, Halloween is a thing in the Star Wars universe. It features heavily in this chapter.

Throughout the first couple of months after Max leaves, Finn does what he can to keep hold of the feelings he has for Poe, to keep them tight to his chest and try not to act too differently, even though just below the surface there’s a raging sea of desire and longing that doesn’t leave him for second.

He wants to be fair to Poe, not make him have to deal with feelings he doesn't return. 

He does well enough, he thinks, all things considered. 

For one thing, there’s the Resistance to keep them both busy. 

After he’d awoken from his coma, General Organa had come to him. 

Watching him with what he’d since come to realize was her typical mix of shrewdness compassion, she’d more or less said he was welcome to do whatever the kriff he wanted for the Resistance. They were happy to have him. They owed him a debt. And his life so far, the life that offered so little in the way of choice until he broke ranks and chose to leave, was terribly unjust. 

She wanted him to have choices now, and more or less suggested that he spend some time wandering about the base, offering help where he saw it needed, learning from all the people who had so much to teach, until he figured out what it was that made him happy. 

 

It had proved to be a great strategy and Finn delighted in the chance to find out what he liked. He gravitated towards Poe and the pilots several days a week, of course, more so in the beginning, when he’d been a bit nervous, worried that those who weren’t close with Poe or the General might be hung up on the First Order past. 

Now he rotated through different jobs, helping in the med bay, the kitchens, maintenance, engineering and agro- whatever he wanted. He’d established enough acquaintances and friends around the base that he could always find a place to fit. 

 

Which was nice.

 

Because as much as he adored the time he spent with Poe, sometimes being asked to squeeze underneath an X-Wing with him, to lay on his back beside him, hidden away from the world, as Poe tried to explain something complex and technical and Finn’s brain only wanted to focus in on the scent of him, or the color of his lips was a bit much for him to handle. He’s certain he couldn’t do it every day and maintain his sanity. 

Which of course, he doesn’t have to. Poe is away at least half the time, and that’s a different- a  _ worse  _ kind of torment. At least with Rey being gone, he  _ knows  _ where she is, and he knows she’s relatively safe. He wishes he could hear from her more, but he knows she made contact with Skywalker, and he knows she’s training with him and learning so much. 

 

When Poe goes away, it’s  _ never safe.  _

 

It’s not much of a shock that he gets sent out to do the things they send him to do. The first time Finn ever heard his name- he remembers- it was right after they caught him on Jakku. He heard his fellow troopers muttering to each other, nodding down the hallway where Poe, a stranger, was being tortured for information.  _ Know who they have in there? It's _  Poe Dameron. _A real_ _  big shot in the Resistance. They say he’s their best pilot. I heard he flies circles around star cruisers just to taunt them. Yeah right. Anyway, he won’t be flying anywhere except out the airlock once they get what they -Shut up, Phasma’s coming.   _

 

He’s seen Poe’s talent for himself since, many times over. As well as his daring, his intelligence and steadfast commitment to the Resistance’s mission. 

 

There’s no one better to send, but the wait times are an agony. Especially when he’s late. So far it’s never been more than a day, but those days always feel like eons for Finn and any of the squad who are left behind. On those days, they stay up playing cards until their eyes can’t stay open any longer because going through it alone is too hard. But of course, once Finn gets to his bunk, he lays awake for hours anyway. 

 

He suspects, on days like that, that maybe the other pilots know. Well, not all of them. Ziff is dense as rocks when it comes to picking up on anything to do with other people. 

But Jess and Snap seem to pay Finn particular care whenever Poe is late and always look at him with big eyes when Poe is late, taking extra care to make jokes to him about how Poe's probably just doing it for the attention, because he loves a proper welcome. Even though they’re clearly as worried as he is, they seem to want to take care of Finn as he deals with it. He let's them, even though there's not much they can do to ease his misery and fear, because maybe it helps them cope easier to think they're looking after him. 

 

Every time Poe leaves, Finn has to face how much he really actually  _ loves  _ him. 

 

And how could he not?

 

It makes so much sense he’s amazed he didn’t realize it sooner. Poe the best thing in Finn’s life. He’s the person he looks forward to seeing every day, and being greeted by his grin in the mornings makes Finn’s heart pound in his chest and makes his stomach flutter. All his qualities, his patience, his humor, his kindness just make everything so much  _ better  _ that Finn can hardly believe there was a time before Poe. Everything that came before is starting to go fuzzier and fuzzier, yet he can remember every conversation with Poe he’s ever had, and play them in his head like a holo whenever Poe isn’t there. 

 

It’s kind of a shit feeling, knowing it all so fully, yet not being able to say anything about it. 

It wouldn’t be right. Poe has someone, and Poe is his  _ friend,  _ the best friend he’s ever had, and Finn needs to respect that. He needs to be a friend worthy of Poe. He tells it to himself repeatedly, a mantra.

It doesn't help much.

 

___

 

Finn is doing some work with the gardeners one morning when Jess comes running up with heavy bootsteps. “Look up to the sky, buddy,” she grins. “Our favorite is back!” 

 

His head snaps up, and he looks around wildly, but doesn’t see anything. He turns back to her, and she shrugs. “Okay, so you can’t see them yet. But they called it in. Touchdown in less than ten minutes. Tavi, do you think I could steal Finn away for a bit so we can welcome Poe back?” 

Tavi, a kindly older man from Coruscant, who Finn had been working with gave them both a broad smile. “Of course. Heat of the day is coming on soon anyway. Going to break myself before long.” 

 

“Excellent,” Jess smiles, and grabs Finn by the elbow, dragging him to his feet and towards the outdoor landing strip. “You know how much that ego of his demands a worshipful welcome.” 

 

Even though she’s known Poe much longer than he has, Jess always lets Finn get his hug in first, practically shoving him at Poe- not that he needs encouragement to shamelessly run at Poe as fast as his feet can carry him. He figures that’s okay, that it’s not revealing  _ too much  _ considering they’d done the same thing at their very first reunion. It's tradition.

 

As always, their hug is fierce and tight. “You’re early! By a whole day!” Finn grins into Poe’s ear, not quite ready to pull back. “I like that. I like it a whole lot more than the whole ill-advised being late thing. Let’s aim for more arrivals like this.” 

 

“I’ll see what I can do, buddy. You know I’ll try.” He pulls away at last and moves off to share quick greetings with Jess and the others who are about. Finn waits his turn. Poe always circles back. 

 

“So, how’d it go?” Finn asks. “I expect you’ve got to report in to command. I’ll walk you.” 

 

“You know, it was actually a pretty smooth run, and there’s nothing of urgent importance to report,” Poe says with a smile. “What do you say to smooth-talking your friends into the kitchen into giving us an early lunch? Eat it outside? That planet was so  _ ashy.  _ I want to be in the  _ sun.”  _

 

Finn agrees, delighting in the idea of getting Poe to himself- at least it seems he’ll have him to himself, as all the other pilots are out of earshot and Poe hadn't mentioned any of them. 

 

He delights even more in the  _ doing  _ and they take the food out to a little pond not far from the base, sitting in a patch of grass and watching great jeweled insects flit about, skimming across the water. 

 

After a while, when their food is gone but they’re still sitting peaceably, neither one eager to make any moves inside, Poe turns to him, grinning broadly. 

 

“Hey, Finn. Guess what month it is!” 

 

The sunlight is making his hair shine and his eyes sparkle, and Finn can only duck is head in amusement and mutter “I don’t need __ to _guess_ , Poe. I know it’s-”

 

“Fine, fine, fine!” Poe interrupts, brimming with excited energy. “Guess what  _ holiday  _ is this month! That’s what I’m really asking.”

 

Finn thinks for a second. “I think some people in maintenance were talking about it a bit- Halloween, right? I was a bit distracted trying to help fix a pipe.” 

 

“That is exactly right!” Poe says. “The best holiday there is.” 

 

“Poe, you’ve said that for every single holiday we’ve had since I met you,” Finn replies with a smirk.  

 

“True," Poe concedes. "But this time I mean it!” 

 

“Also sounds like something I’ve heard before,” Finn says, amused. “Anyway, tell me about it. Aside from knowing it exists, and there are pumpkins, which Tavi is very excited about, I don’t know much.” 

 

And so he lies on his back in the sun and basks in it, and in Poe’s company and his enthusiasm as he tells him everything. Poe talks about his childhood memories of it, of candy and costumes and the upcoming party and Finn feels the excitement boiling over into him- along with some nerves. 

 

“So I need to- I’m supposed to figure out some kind of costume? Well that should be...I’m sure I can think of something-” 

 

“Actually,” Poe says. “I’ve got an idea when it comes to that.” 

 

“Yeah?” Finn asks, already feeling the relief rush in. Of course Poe has his back. He always has his back. “What is it?”

 

Poe had been lying on his back like Finn, but now he’s propped up on his side, grinning at him. His eyes are twinkling. He’s excited and delighted. “I _suppose_ I could tell you.  _ Or...  _ I could just ask you this: Do you trust me?” 

 

Looking at that gorgeous, warm,  _ perfect  _ face, there can only be one answer.

 

“Are you kidding? Of course I do,” Finn says. 

 

“Great! Well then, all you’ve gotta do is come by my bunk on the day of, whenever you get done with work. Leave the rest to me.” 

 

___

 

Halloween, it turns out, is a pretty big deal to a lot of people. The kids around base chatter about it constantly. 

It’s no secret that the Resistance leaders kept it in mind when they’d last sent out for supplies, choosing to splurge a little on the chance to make the young folks whose parents were all fighting so fiercely happy for a day. 

The adults are not much better, especially the ones who are younger and not yet settled down. Finn has a feeling it will be a bit of a rowdy night.

 

On the day of, he swings by Poe’s bunk. The party is a few hours away, and he’d managed to do some trading to get his hands on actual six-pack of beer that he’s rather proud of. Poe’s had a much longer time to put together a savings than him, and usually provides the treats if there are ever any. Finn’s glad to finally have something to contribute, and gladder still when Poe opens the door, sees him waggling the beers and gives him a mile-wide smile. 

 

“Hey! Where’d you get these? Correllian stout? Haven’t had one of those in years. Come on in, buddy, we’ve got lots to do,” he says and Finn shakes his head a little. BB-8 is zooming around at Poe’s feet and the pair of them are giving off waves of giddiness. Finn’s certain it’s going to be contagious. He can already feel it starting. 

 

“So. Do I get to find out with this costume of mine is? Snap made kind of a big deal when I said I had no idea what I was going as, and that you had promised to take care of it. I’m eighty percent sure he was just trying to mess with me, but...well I'm wondering whether I should be worried-” 

 

Poe laughs. “Of course not! You should know better than to listen to anything any of them say by now. Your trust was well placed, I promise. You are familiar, I think, with the band Moons of Jarrah?” 

 

Finn raises his eyebrows. “The ones you played every day for a week, during the Finn’s Musical Education Seminar? Yeah, I've heard of them.” 

He smiles at the memory. It was a task Poe took upon himself, at the start, though as soon as the other pilots got wind of it they’d jumped in, telling him how Poe’s taste was garbage and he needed to start listening to X, Y & Z band instead.

 

“Right you are. I think I failed in my professorly duties a bit, as I never actually showed you what they look like though,” Poe says, heading over to a shelf and pulling something off it. He hands Finn a magazine that’s pretty beat up, probably more than a decade old.  _ Galactic Rocker  _ is the title, and Finn’s jaw drops open slightly as he takes a look at the cover photo. 

 

_ Moons of Jarrah: Exclusive Interview on the Latest Album  _ is written across it in aggressive green font and the four band members are posed on it with their instruments. 

Finn realizes at once what this means. Two of them, the drummer and the bassist look a  _ lot  _ like him and Poe. 

“You- you want us to dress up as them?” Finn asks weakly. Snap had shown him  _ his  _ costume earlier, a weird, ugly mask that he’d said he’d probably only wear for twenty minutes. He stares down at the magazine cover at the band, their elaborate leather outfits, the hair, the safety-pins and make-up and feels his face heat up. 

 

“You bet,” Poe says, before frowning slightly. “I mean, unless- if you don’t want to that’s fine, of course. Maybe it’s a little much-”

 

“No, no, it’s not that,” Finn rushes in quickly. “I just- they’re so  _ cool.  _ It seems like a lot of work. Do you even have...all this stuff?” He gestures at the magazine cover. 

 

“Hey! I resent the implication that we're not cool,” he says, though he seems happy and amused once again. “I am _plenty_ cool. And not to worry. I wasn’t _always_ a golden boy of the Resistance, you know. I had my teenage phase where I held dreams sticking it to the First Order by moving to a grungy city and making angry music.” 

 

Finn laughed loudly at that. He could see it very clearly, teenage punk rocker Poe, though it seemed at odds with how warm and bright he was now.  

Poe ducked his head a bit, blushing, but looked up again with a straight face, saying “The _point_ is, I’ve got everything we need. As long as you’re okay with it?” 

 

“Sure,” Finn says. He looks at the magazine again. “So uh, this drummer-” 

 

“Zab Gunnar, yeah-”

 

“I can’t help noticing there’s something interesting going on with his hair,” Finn says, side-eyeing Poe. 

By interesting he means that it’s electric blue.

“So it is,” Poe says. “We were so ahead of schedule that last mission, we even had time to make a brief stop in the middle of civilization. Got just the thing for it.”  He waves a bright blue bottle at him, and Finn’s stomach does a little flip. There’s a thrill he can’t deny, in the thought of Poe thinking so far ahead on this. He must have wanted do this joint costume thing with him for a while and went out of his way to make arrangements for it. 

 

“It’s not permanent, if you’re worried,” Poe smiles. “Washes right out, when you're done. What do you say?” 

 

“I’m in,” Finn says eagerly. 

 

He knows it doesn’t mean exactly what he wants it too, but the fact that he and Poe are heading to a party together, dressed as members of the same band, has his insides goopy. 

 

“Great,” Poe says, and busies himself for a moment getting some things ready. 

He puts on his favorite Moons of Jarrah album, to start, and pulls out an opener for their beers, cracking one for each of them. He gets a towel and wraps it around Finn’s shoulders to protect his clothes from the dye. Finn tries not to jump too much as Poe’s fingers brush briefly against his skin. 

The hair dye is some sort of mousse, and Poe starts to massage it into his scalp, chattering more about the band as he does, giving Finn a biography of Zab Gunnar and the other members, all the while making Finn’s eyes practically roll up in his head at the sensation of his deft fingers working in the dye. It’s an exquisite torture, being touched by him and Finn finds himself gripping his beer bottle hard, fighting to take in all Poe is saying. 

 

When it’s all done and Poe’s hands are gone, Finn tries not feel too disappointed. It had been purely functional. He needs to do better at controlling himself. 

 

Poe moves around from behind him to stand in front of him and inspect the dye job.

 

Finn feels himself go hot under Poe’s gaze. 

 

Poe might not be into  _ him  _ specifically, but he is attracted to men, and...well, people assess the attractiveness one other. Finn does wonder, sometimes, how Poe sees him. He must have an opinion. 

 

“Wow,” Poe grins. “Blue is a good color on you! Check it out,” He hands Finn a mirror, and he takes it. His eyes widen. Alright...it does look pretty cool. 

 

“Right!" Poe says, pulling the mirror away once Finn's had a chance to look. "Now that’s done, let’s get ourselves dressed and ready. I got my dad to send some of my old stuff. It’s all on the bed there, you can take your pick. I’m gonna- head into the fresher and get myself ready.” 

 

Finn chooses some black pants and a black leather jacket. There are some other accessories about- skulls and studded bracelets and stuff, but he doesn’t feel confident enough to add them on himself. He’s sure Poe will offer up some advice when he comes out. 

 

_ If  _ he ever comes out. What the kriff is he _doing_ in there? Finn doesn’t hear the shower going. He finishes off his first beer and opens another one, trying not to be too impatient, to just enjoy the music and the beer. 

 

It turns out to be well worth the wait. When Poe walks out of the bathroom, it takes everything Finn has not to let his jaw fall to the floor. 

 

Poe looks- well he’s always been incredibly handsome- but seeing him in this costume is definitely  _ doing  _ things to Finn.

He's wearing  _eyeliner._ And pants that  _hug._

It's thoroughly unfair. 

The smoky bedroom eyes make it almost painful to look at him. Devastatingly hot doesn’t even begin to cover it. And those pants are just  clinging to his ass and they’re ripped to shreds, revealing bits of thigh and leg all the way down. That, and the jacket, black leather and full of safety pins, the artfully mussed hair...it’s too much. 

 

Finn’s not sure he’ll ever get the image out of his head. 

 

_ Say something,  _ he thinks desperately, because Poe looks a bit shy and expectant, standing there, but his tongue feels heavy and useless in his mouth so it falls to Poe to be the first to speak. 

 

“I’m seeing a real trend here with my jackets looking great on you. You look fantastic,” Poe says after a moment. Walking forward he claps him hard on the shoulder. “Who am I kidding?  _ We _ look fantastic! Here, let’s get a photo!” 

 

He throws an arm around Finn’s shoulder, and it takes effort on his part not to  _ swoon,  _ to get it together enough to grin at the camera. 

 

“Wow, Poe,” he says, finding his voice at last, though it’s croakier than usual. “You look really great. Seriously, you look just like him.”  _ Better  _ than him, he thinks privately, which is saying something because the guy Poe is dressed as was voted Hottest Rocker of the Year, according to the magazine. 

 

“You too. Did I tell you there’s a costume contest? We’ve got some people around here who really go all out, but you know, I think we have a shot at making the top five in the contest this year, I’m telling you. Though I think we need to get some more accessories on you. If that’s alright,” Poe says, and Finn nods his consent, allowing Poe to fuss over him and finding it thoroughly endearing. 

 

After slapping on a few extra bits of jewelry, Poe inspects him again, biting his lip in a way that is both sexy and worrying. 

 

“What is it?” Finn asks, nervously. 

 

“Nothing. You definitely look the part, Finn. There’s no mistaking who you’re supposed to be. It’s just- well, Zab was always famous for his...well-” 

 

“What?” Finn squints at him, certain from Poe’s body language that he thinks Finn might not like what he’s about to say. “Give it to me straight, Dameron.” 

 

Poe gives him a sheepish smile, knowing he’s been caught. “His fang earring.” 

 

“ _ Earring?”  _ Finn squawks. “Poe, that’s- I really don’t think that’s necessary. I mean, like you said- thanks to you, I definitely look the part. No one would be- confused just because I don't have an earring.” 

 

“You’re right,” Poe says, nodding. “You’re totally right. Yeah, we’re- we’re set.” 

 

Finn watches him through narrowed eyes as Poe keeps his face perfectly neutral. It's obviously taking him so much effort. 

 

“Oh for Kriff’s sake!” Finn cries after a moment of silence. 

 

“What?” Poe says. “I- I didn’t say anything.”

 

“Yeah, but I can _feel_ you thinking it. You want to  _ pierce  _ my _ear_. For a single  _ costume party.”  _ He finds it thoroughly ridiculous, but he can’t help but be amused. 

 

Poe looks thoroughly bashful. “Well. Yeah. I suppose do. A bit,” he admits. “But I get that it’s- probably insane.” 

 

“It’s definitely insane,” Finn laughs. “But you really want to do it, don’t you?” 

 

Poe is red in the face as he says, “Yeah. But- I mean. No pressure. You’ve already been way too good of a sport.” 

 

“Too late, jack ass” Finn says, shaking his head. “The pressure is already on. I mean, I guess it wouldn’t be the end of the world…” 

 

“Ah, Finn, don’t. I feel like a real jerk now. You really don’t have to. You already look so great.” 

 

But Finn  _ wants  _ to. He lived a long, miserable life where no one ever got to be strange or different or do anything that wasn’t practical. And now he’s in a world where friends get together to dance and dress up in wild costumes and he knows this absurd little thing would make Poe Dameron happy, and that’s not much to ask when Poe makes him so deliriously happy every minute of the day. 

 

“I want to.” 

 

After a bit more arguing, where Poe tries and fails to downplay it and Finn tells him to stop being an idiot and just do it before he loses his nerve, Poe gets out a needle to pierce his ear with and some things to sterilize with. Finn watches nervously as Poe approaches. 

 

“Will it- hurt?” he asks, eyeing the needle. 

 

Poe grins at his nervousness. “Finn, you survived a lightsaber to the back. This is-”

 

“Yeah, and that hurt  _ a lot!”  _ he cries, indignant. 

 

“Yeah, well. I can assure you this will hurt quite a bit less than that.” 

 

“It better,” he grumbled. “Can’t believe I’m doing this.” 

 

“You can still change your-”

 

“Just get it over with,” he says quickly. He shuts his eyes as Poe approaches, and keeps them closed until it’s done. When he opens them, after not much more than a wince, Poe is cupping his face with one hand. 

 

“There you go. All set,” Poe smiles. A moment later it takes on a cheeky quality as he says, “What a big, brave boy you were. Seriously. _Such_ courage, such-” 

 

“Krifff off,” Finn laughs, slapping his hand away, in part because of the teasing, but also because Poe’s hand on his face was a bit too intimate to handle. It had brought a rush of heat right through him. He stands up, heading for the cooler that holds the last of their beers. “I suppose we ought to finish these off and then head out?” 

 

“Sounds good. Here, pick the next one to listen to,” passing him a bundle of Moons of Jarrah albums.

Finn frowns at them a little. 

“I’m getting a little tired of the Moons, actually, think maybe we should switch to a little-  _ I’m kidding,  _ Poe! You’re a very gullible man, has anyone ever told you that?”

 

____

 

With their last beers drained, it only seems right to head out to the party, but lounging on his bed, listening to the best band of his adolescence, with his favorite person in the Galaxy, it’s kinda hard to work up the motivation. Which is odd, because Poe loves Halloween, and loves celebrating it at the Resistance, where everyone goes all out and properly let’s loose. 

It’s just that Finn is right at his side, sitting close and humming along to the music, and he smells so good and it’s actually totally unjust how hot he looks dressed as Zab.

 

Still, he forces himself to stand up and stretch and adopt a positive mindset about heading to the party. It  _ will  _ be fun, and he doesn’t have the right to keep Finn away from it all night. 

His first Halloween out in the world! It’s Poe’s duty to make it a good night for him. 

 

They get to the party to find the mess hall transformed. 

Maintenance, along with some volunteers from all over the base had really gone all out, though Poe admittedly devotes more attention to watching Finn’s awe than he does to the cobwebs and pumpkins and mynoch decorations. Plenty of people are already there, but it’s not that late and Poe knows more will trickle in. They’d still seen some kids roaming the halls with their parents as they walked down, adorable in their little costumes and clearly high on sugar. He imagines it’ll take some effort getting them all to bed, but he hopes all the parents get a bit of a break and join the fun too.

 

They move slowly through the room, in the general direction of the bar but pausing often for Finn to gape at different decorations and costumes.

 

They both turn at the sound of a loud scream on their left. 

 

Before he can even full turn around, Jess tackle hugs him, screeching, “YOU LOOK AMAZING,” before turning to Finn and throwing her arms around him.

"You too! What the kriff? I feel like I'm sixteen years old again! I would have  _murdered_ someone to get within touching disance of Zab Gunnar, and here he is IN THE FLESH." She punches Finn in the arm hard enough to make him wince.

He and Finn catch each other’s eyes and grin. Someone has clearly been pre-gaming. With more than a few beers, it would seem.

“You look amazing too, Jess,” Finn says, looking her over. She’s covered head to toe in gold, clearly modeled after the General’s infamously annoying protocol droid. She’s definitely put effort into it, with gold body paint on every bit of exposed flesh and lots of shiny gold clothes. Poe chimes in with his own compliments and they head over to get drinks together.  

 

The party is in the early stages, and people are mostly standing around with drinks, chatting and they do the same. Eventually, Jess wanders off to talk to someone else, but he and Finn stick together, meeting people, checking out their costumes and exchanging compliments. 

Poe loves watching the way people light up when they see Finn. It still makes him ill to think of how many years he had to spend hiding his face, his warmth and his humor behind stormtrooper armor. 

 

It’s during one of those conversations where he remembers the promise he made to Finn a while ago. He said he'd help him... meet people.  To help him find something _romantic_ , next time there was a party. He’d been too wrapped up in his own joy to think about it, but once he does, he feels the sting and realizes he owes it to Finn to address it. 

 

“Hey, Finn,” he says quietly, after the couple they’d been talking to moves away. “Do you...remember what we talked about, that day in the hangar? After um, you found out about Max?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Finn says, though he looks a little puzzled. “What part?” 

 

“Where I … I offered to help- you know, be your wingman, if you needed it. I don’t know if you wanna give it a shot tonight but- well. If you do. Let me know. I’ll help, if I can.” 

 

His face is burning, and he’s fumbled it so badly, because helping Finn into the arms of someone else is seriously the last thing in the galaxy he wants to do. But he has to, if Finn wants it. Even if it hurts.

 

Finn stares at him for a long moment, and Poe can’t read his meaning. At last he speaks up.

 

“Oh. Yeah. I...I remember. Um. Yeah. Maybe,” he says, and Finn also seems a tad flustered. “Maybe. Thanks.”

 

“Hey, I mean, no pressure or anything. Just- well if someone catches your eye and- well. We can check in about it later,” Poe says in a rush, and quickly points out someone dressed as a rancor. 

 

The perfect opportunity comes along way sooner than Poe would have hoped, when they come face to face with a girl who is dressed as another member of Moons of Jarrah. Shayla Lido, the guitarist and vocalist. It's unmistakable. They all blink at each other for a moment, and the girl is the first to speak up.

 

“Holy shit! You guys look so good!”  She exclaims, flashing bright teeth at them.

 

“Right back at you, Shayla. Or whatever your real name is,” Poe smiles, clinking beers with her. Her hair is done up in a fantastic, bright mohawk and her eye-makeup is elaborate and spot on. 

 

“It’s Dally, right?” Finn grins, moving closer to be heard. “From the kitchens? You know, I’m pretty sure this girl is the reason breakfast has been five hundred percent better lately,” he says to Poe, then turns to beam at the girl. “You just got in here last week, right. With the people from the base on Cyrkon?” 

 

“Yeah,” she smiles back. "That's right." 

 

“Well we’re all thanking the Force for that, Dally,” Finn smiles. “I don’t know what you’re doing in there but it’s a real step up.” 

 

“Thanks,” she says, looking away, a little bashful. “My parents were spicers. We had to leave the base in a bit of a rush, but I made sure to bring my collection at the expense of a lot of other things. Glad you're enjoying it. It's Finn, right? I've heard a lot about you."

"Yeah," he says, shaking her hand. "From Dora, I'm guessing? Don't believe everything she tells you," Finn says, _winking_ at her. Poe feels a twist in his gut as Finn carries on the conversation. "I bet she's doing a nice job getting you oriented down there. She did for me, when I first started helping..." 

Poe finds he can barely keep up with content of their conversation. He's far too focused on the smiles, and the ease with which they chatter and the dread he feels as he realizes this girl might be just right for Finn. 

They don’t leave him out or anything, but the two of them clearly have chemistry, and seeing it reminds Poe that Finn is  _ not his,  _ however much he might want him to be. It puts an ache in his belly, but he hangs back, allowing them to engage with each other and only chiming in when they ask him a direction question.

He’s kind of surprised Finn  _ hasn’t  _ ended up in bed with half the population of the base already, watching him hit it off so easily, so naturally with this girl. In spite of his offer to be a wingman, Poe doesn’t think there’s anything he can do to help Finn along that he can’t do for himself. 

 

Finn’s just so kriffing lovely, so  _ genuine  _ and people just love him. 

 

He could probably just slip away, go find Jess, and Finn might very well fall into something on his own. Dally certainly hasn’t taken her eyes off Finn, and- she’s a sweet girl and would probably do right by him. There’s a part of him that says _just go_ , just go away and _let him be_ , but another part, a selfish part, isn’t ready. He wants to laugh along with them, but he can't, because the battle inside him is raging.

 

He hovers for a bit, but at last forces himself to move off. To do the decent thing. 

 

It’s getting too kriffing painful anyway, hearing them laugh together,  _ vibe  _ together. 

 

He waits for the right moment to cut in, then places a hand on Finn’s elbow and says he needs the fresher. Finn gives him a warm smile, nods and slips back into his conversation. Poe walks off towards the bar with a heavy heart.  

 

\---

“Hey, Dameron,” Jess says in his ear, startling him from his thoughts. “You are aware that Moons of Jarrah are punk, right? Not emo?” 

 

“What?” he asks dazed. 

 

“You’re _brooding_. Very obviously. I was _trying_ to flirt with one of the cute new girls and I couldn't even concentrate because all I could see was your glumness from across the room. Big change from the last time I checked in with you. Where’s your boyfriend?” 

 

“Hey,” Poe says sharply, wounded. “Don’t call him that. He’s not.” 

Jess takes in the pained expression he can't fight off and frowns.

“Sorry,” she says with a heavy sigh. “Where's Finn?” 

 

“I- I left him. I...let him have some space. He was hitting it off with one of the newbies from Cyrkon base. Seems like everyone is tonight,” he adds, not even caring how pathetic it must sound. 

 

“Poe…” she starts, but he shakes his head. 

 

“I’m trying to be a wingman for him. I promised that I would. It's not right, to go back on your word,” he says miserably. 

 

“You _ what?  _ Poe, that’s ridiculous. You know I love you, but you are displaying a level of masochism that makes me worry for your sanity.”

 

“I’m not a masochist,” he mutters, shoulders going tense with defensiveness.

 

“Poe, you got the guy you’re currently _head over heels_ _ in love with  _ to dress up as your _teenage crush_ and you’re offering to help him hook up with _other people_. What else would you call it?”

 

Poe reddens at how astute she is, and hates himself for forgetting about the time he’d mentioned his adolescent Zab Gunnar crush to her. “I’d call it  _ trying to do the right thing _ .” 

 

She lets out a loud, angry sigh of frustration.

 

“UGH. POE. How the kriff do you  _ know _ it’s right thing? That he wouldn’t rather be with _you_ right now? Did you _ask_ him? Or did you just slip away to wallow in defeated misery?”

Her arms are crossed over her chest, and she looks sympathetic and annoyed all at once. 

“I...you should have seen them, Jess. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Not that I can blame the girl. And he seemed to like her plenty. She’s a sweet girl. Funny. She could be good for him. I just wanted to give him a chance to-

 

“Poe," Jess interrupts, looking at him like he's the stupidest creature in the galaxy. "He let you pierce his kriffing  _ ear.”  _

 

Poe says is surprised enough that he let’s out a bitter laugh. “What? That doesn’t mean anything.” 

 

“Says you,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes.

 

“After all the shit he’s been through, Jess, he deserves to be happy. I can’t hold him back from that just because I-” 

 

“He doesn’t look all that happy now,” Jess says coolly. 

 

“What?” Poe asks, scanning the room. 

 

“He looks like a lost puppy. Ten o’clock,” she adds, to help him locate Finn in the crowd. Sure enough Finn is alone, looking around searchingly as he weaves through the crowd. 

 

“OY! FINN!” Jess roars, waving. Poe’s amazed he heard her with all the noise. The music is playing a lot louder than when they first got in, and there are more people now too, but Finn looks their way and lights up, starting to come over at once. 

 

When he arrives, Jess says “HI FINN” very loudly, though she doesn't actually look at him. Instead, she’s positively glaring at Poe. 

 

“Hey,” he says, watching her watching Poe with some confusion. “How’s it going?” 

 

“Just fine,” she says, still scowling heavily at Poe. “I NEED TO GO TALK TO ZIFF. SEE YOU LATER.” 

 

Finn looks at Poe, bemused. “What- what’s that all about?” 

 

Poe shrugs, and mimes a drinking motion. “Drunk, I think. I can't explain half the things she does when she's sober.” 

 

“Oh,” Finn grins. “Think I might be getting there myself.”

"You and me both, buddy," Poe says because he hadn't done much but drink and brood since he'd left Finn with Dally. 

___

 

Finn feels thoroughly relieved to be back in Poe's company. He'd been wondering if he'd ever find him again, now that it's gotten so crowded in the mess.

Poe asks, “Having fun?" 

 

“Yeah,” Finn says emphatically. “Definitely.” 

 

Poe looks at him for a moment. “Where’s your- your friend? Dally?” 

 

“Oh, she needed to excuse herself for a minute. And I realized I hadn’t seen you in a while, so I came looking. How are you?”

 

“Good,” Poe smiles. “Do you want to, uh, look for her again? In a bit? You guys seemed to be hitting it off.” 

 

Oh, Finn thinks as his suspicions are confirmed. 

He’d thought, when Poe hadn’t returned for more than a half hour, that maybe his absence had been part of the...wingman thing. He shifts uncomfortably. 

If that was his intention in leaving, it was a nice gesture, but truthfully a pointless one. Dally is very nice, and very funny. He had gotten the sense that she might be a little interested in him. In another universe, Finn thinks he could be very much into her too. But it would have to be a universe with no Poe Dameron in it, because Finn cannot imagine being with anyone else. And the thought of a universe without Poe Dameron in it is just kriffing awful anyway.

 

It’s pathetic, maybe to hold back and hold out on anything else, when he can’t have Poe. But if Dally _does_ like it wouldn’t be fair to her to try something when his heart is totally wrapped up in someone else.

 

He’d better let Poe know, though he feels extremely awkward about the prospect.  

“Uh, no,” Finn says. “Not- not particularly. Poe, I think maybe you headed away to give us a shot at talking alone but- it’s not necessary. I appreciate your offer to help, I really do, but,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “But I kind of just want to enjoy the night, I think. With my friends. It’s my first Halloween and I just want to have fun and not worry about- I don’t know- hooking up with anyone or- or anything like that.”

 

His face feels really hot. He hopes it’s not too obvious that he’s basically begging Poe to stay with him for the rest of the night. He forces himself to face Poe.

 

Does Poe seem... is that  _ relief _ on his face? 

 

Probably not, that doesn’t make any sense, but eventually the expression he can’t quite read morphs into a genuine grin. 

 

“Then that's what we'll do. No worries at all, buddy,” Poe says, and puts an arm around his shoulder. “You’re sticking with me then, and I’m gonna make sure you have the best kriffing Hallow’een night ever.”

 

“Great,” Finn grins, and relief is absolutely what he feels. That, and a flutter at the proximity of Poe, who is still draped over him and guiding him towards the bar. 

 

“Let’s go do a shot!” Poe grins. 

 

___

Poe keeps his promise with gusto. After their conversation which had felt a little awkward, he threw himself into giving Finn the full Halloween experience.

 

After getting a shot and a beer, Poe drags him over to a games area. The first game Poe makes him play involves shoving his head into a bucket full of water and fruits with his hands behind his back. The aim is to get one in his teeth, and it’s way harder than one might think. 

 

Poe laughs uproariously at his multiple failed attempts, urging him to try again and again. After the fifth failure, Finn glares at him, wiping water off his face. 

 

“Why don’t you try it then, hotshot?” he mutters as Poe laughs his head off. 

 

“And ruin my perfect eyeliner?” Poe asks, clutching his heart. “Not on your life. Come on, I think you almost had it that time. Try again.” 

 

\--

The next game, they play together, and Finn gets his revenge because Poe is awful at it. They’re on the same team, and they face off against two girls from maintenance. Essentially, each team has six cups full of beer, and you’re supposed to guide a little remote control X-Wing into their cup. If you make it, they drink up and the aim is to get all the cups drained first. 

 

Apparently, Poe’s lack of talent for the game is a running joke around the base. Best pilot in the Resistance, yet utterly hopeless at getting a toy X-wing to do what he wants. A crowd gathers to watch, laughing and poking fun every time Poe’s efforts spectacularly backfire. Their team makes it to the next round, but with no help from Poe. Then they face off against Jess and Ziff, who both have a lot of skill and delight in watching Poe fail.

 

“Kriff,” Poe whines in his ear as Finn sinks another shot and Ziff throws back the contents of the cup. “Stop doing well. Throw the game, please. End my humiliation. I can’t handle another round.” 

 

Finn laughs hard, but he doesn’t get a chance to decide whether or not to come to Poe’s rescue or let him dangle, because Ziff gets one right into their last cup while they’re busy looking at one another, winning the game. 

__

 

Eventually, there’s dancing. Finn has been to a couple of parties already, but none of them have involved  _ dancing. _

But all of a sudden the music is BLARING. 

It starts off kind of slow, with a few rather inebriated people heading towards what becomes a dance floor, but soon enough more and more people start to join them. Before long, there are people doing weird jigs on tables, circling up in groups with arms draped over each other or coupling up to grind explicitly, and it’s definitely like nothing Finn has ever experienced. He gapes around at all of it.

 

Poe is content to watch from the sidelines for a bit, to watch Finn watching it, taking it all in, but soon enough it seems the pull to join the fun is too strong. The squad has come together in one corner of the dance floor and they’re already getting rowdy. Poe points them out to Finn.

 

“What do ya say, buddy? Wanna get out there?” He waggles his eyebrows. 

 

Finn can’t help the shy look that comes over him. “I’ve- I’ve never actually danced before.” 

 

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you. Not that there’s much to teach. There’s no rules here. It’s just fun. Come on,” he says, and takes Finn by the hand, tugging him through the crowd until they reach their friends. The touch is enough to make Finn fully compliant and he follows without resistance. 

"There you guys are," Snap grins, the first to spot them. 

 

Within seconds, Poe’s started to move along with the group. His grin is a mile wide, and his hips are swaying. He keeps eye contact with Finn, still moving his eyebrows in a way that says  _ come on. Join us! _

 

Finn hesitates, eyes fixated on Poe's hips, until Ziff throws an arm around his shoulder, drawing his attention. “FINN! I’m betting this is your first dance party, yeah?”

 

“Then allow me to show you how it’s done!”  

 

“Don’t listen to him, Finn,” Snap shouts from where he’s dancing with Jess, twirling her around in rapid circles, cupping his mouth to be heard. “He’s the definition of two left feet if I ever saw one.” 

 

Ziff throws a rude gesture his way and says, “Lies. Lies and jealousy, my friend. Come on now, Finn, do what I do.” 

 

He starts off copying Ziff and gets the feeling Snap might be right about him as he does. Still, while Ziff might lack finesse he’s clearly having fun, and before long Finn is too as he follows along with his strange moves. 

 

Somehow it evolves into a bit of contest, with each of the pilots demanding that Finn copy them in turn. The moves get increasingly ridiculous as they compete to see what they can get him to do, and Finn is grateful, because it makes being clumsy feel okay. 

 

It’s silly and fun, and as he dances Finn feels really glad he spoke up earlier about wanting this night to be about friends, that he’s not out there trying to make something happen with someone else, that he’s just enjoying being weird with his strange family. 

There’s just one thing that’s...difficult. 

 

Poe. 

 

Unlike the rest of them, he is a _remarkably_ good dancer. The way he can move his hips makes Finn’s head spin, and he has to fight not to just totally ogle him as he gyrates and practically _glows_. 

At one point, he and Jess start grinding and Finn loses his ability not to stare. He gets that this is a thing they can do, that it's more funny than anything else, because of the closeness of their friendship. He also gets  that it's very much _not_  the kind of friendship he and Poe __ have. 

Still, he feels a tugging urge to have Poe dance with _him_ like that, to encircle him from behind, to hold his hips and guide him through the rhythm, to rest his chin on Finn’s shoulder and pull him close. 

“Careful, buddy,” Snap grins at one point, leaning close and nudging Finn in the ribs. “You’ll start catching flies if you don’t watch yourself.” 

Finn shuts his mouth so fast he bites his tongue and winces a bit. 

He pries his eyes away and gets back to dancing, and soon enough the song ends and Poe and Jess stop their grinding. 

Everyone dances for a bit longer, people coming and going, getting drinks. He and Poe dance with each other, if not  _ with  _ each other, and Finn is just in awe of how good he looks, with that kriffing eyeliner and the gleam of sweat, and the swaying hips. 

After a while, he’s had more than enough to drink, and he finds himself getting tired. Too tired to keep himself in check. As often happens when he’s with Poe, the balance of fun with his favorite person and the pain of longing shifts, and his spirits start to get a little low. He doesn’t want that. Not when it’s truly been such a wonderful night. 

 

 

It’s getting late. He leans towards Poe who is red-faced from exertion but shows no signs of slowing down, “Hey,” Finn says. “I think I’m ready to turn in.” 

 

“Oh,” Poe says, surprised. “Do you want me to walk you back to your bunk?” 

 

Finn smiles at the offer but shakes his head. “No. Thank you. Stay here. Continue to wow the entire base with your dance moves.” 

 

“You sure?” Poe asks. Finn nods, and Poe steps forward to envelope him in a tight hug. “Don’t forget to drink lots of water," he says, his breath tickling Finn's ear and making him shudder a bit. "Hope you had the best Halloween ever.” 

 

“It was my only Halloween ever,” Finn smiles against Poe’s neck, his words coming out muffled. “But I can’t imagine one ever being better.” 

 

“Good,” Poe says, pulling back. “And I’ve had a whole lot of them but I’m struggling to think of one better. Night, Finn.” 

They’re still standing very close, faces closer than they’ve been all night. The urge to grab him by the collar of that jacket and pull him in for a kiss is overwhelming. Finn has to take a step back, before he does something entirely inappropriate, something that might ruin everything.

 

“Night,” he says quickly, turning away and moving off through the crowd. 

\---

 

The next morning, groggily, he hears the blips of a message coming in. He gropes around and cracks open his eyes with some effort to look at the screen. It’s from Poe. Which is not uncommon, but it still makes his heart leap every time.

 

_ Everything hurts. I think I might be dead, Finn. I really do. Come check that I’m not dead, please.  _

 

He smiles at that, and types back,  _ Having similar thoughts myself, but I'm pretty sure being dead doesn't hurt this much.  _

 

_ True. So our post-Halloween tradition is co-wallowing by watching holos in Pava’s room all day. Wanna come by and ease my agony with your particular brand of Finn sunshine?  _

 

Finn feels a swoop as he reads it, and even though his head is spinning, he's grinning like an idiot. 

 

_Over-consumption_ _  of cheap drinks means sunshine is in short supply, I'm afraid. But I’ll drag myself there, for what it’s worth,  _ he writes back. 

 

_ It’s worth everything,  _ comes the instant response and Finn has to fling the screen away as he feels the swell that comes from reading it.

 

“Kriff you, Poe Dameron,” he moans. “Don’t _say_ things like that to me.” 

__ 

He musters up the energy to go to Jess’s quarters after a bit and knocks on the door. 

 

“Come in,” he hears her groan, and the door slides open. He smiles at the sight before him. Jess is on a beanbag chair, lying face-down. Someone is lying at the head of her bed, a pillow over their face. It’s got to be Ziff, he thinks, and sure enough there’s a mumbled “Hi, Finn” that confirms it. 

 

Poe is the only one whose face is not obscured, and he’s mostly horizontal on Jess’s bed, his head propped up just a little on a pillow. There’s a holo already playing, but Finn gets the feeling no one is particularly invested in it. 

 

“You’re here,” Poe smiles, looking bleary-eyed. “Welcome to the misery party.” He shifts a bit, patting the bed beside him. 

 

In a fit of madness he blames on his very awful hangover (or maybe still being a little drunk), Finn aims not for the bed but for Poe as he falls down onto the bed. His head lands on Poe’s thigh and he clings to him, hugging his legs. 

 

“Everything hurts,” he mumbles into the cotton of Poe’s pajama pants. Poe laughs, and his hands come down to pat Finn’s head. 

 

“I know, buddy. I know,” he says, still rubbing his head. It feels nice. “You’re still very much electric blue, I see.” 

 

“Yeah,” Finn says, narrowing his eyes even though Poe can’t see his expression with his face all buried into Poe’s leg. “Thought you said it was supposed to wash out after a shower.” 

 

“Ah. Well. It might be more like three or four,” Poe says, chuckling. His hand is still on Finn’s head, just resting there. “At least it looks good on you.” 

 

Across the room, Finn hears Jess make a noise into her beanbag, and wonders for a moment what that’s about. Maybe she just wants to throw up. He’s not a stranger to that feeling himself this morning. 

 

He thinks, probably, that he ought to move away now. There’s plenty of room for him at the foot of the bed. But Poe’s hand is still on his head and he hasn’t done anything to convince Finn he wants him to move, and the shared misery of a hangover seems like a remarkably good excuse to be a bit clingy without being... entirely inappropriate. He shifts his head a bit, so he’s facing the screen but doesn't move off Poe's legs. 

 

“What are we watching?” he asks. 

 

“It’s a buddy cop thing. The guy from Coruscant’s all uptight and by-the-book, and he gets partnered with an outer-rimmer who is very much not. A classic. Pretty stupid, pretty funny. Hijinks a plenty,"  Poe says. 

Finn tries to watch for a bit, but he’s still exhausted from the night, and Poe is warm and soft and his hand stays on Finn's head. It  _ moves  _ sometimes, not  _ away,  _ but his thumb strokes across the top of Finn’s head from time to time, gently, almost absent-mindedly and it’s glorious. 

His eyes close after a few minutes, and he listens to the movie rather than watches, and spends most of it imagining what it might be like if he could do only this all the time. He thinks he might just give anything for that. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all the kind folks who reviewed and sent encouragement to keep me going. I think we're coming up on the end here and I'll try to get it done soon!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Less than ideal circumstances lead to some very necessary alone time for the boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos as well as amazing, kind, encouraging comments that have helped me muster the will to finish this up. 
> 
> I hope this chapter will be a sufficient reward for your sweetness and patience!

Poe’s more than two days late getting back from his mission, and Finn is losing his kriffing _mind._

 

He should have been back by now. Jess and Ziff and even _General Organa_ have all had words with him, listing off dozens of possibilities, different speculations of what could be making him late in an effort to sooth his woes.

 

It doesn’t help. Of course, they’re right. Any one of them could be true. Well, maybe not _all_ of them. Ziff listed off some pretty nonsensical theories, probably in the hopes of distracting Finn with some laughter, but that proved futile.

 

Because even with dozens of legitimate reasons why Poe might be late yet perfectly okay, there are three major reasons- devastating reasons- why he might be late and _not okay_ and those are the only ones Finn can seem to spend any significant time thinking about.

 

_He’s hurt._

_He’s captured._

_He’s dead._

 

The chant plays in his head like a skipping song, and he can’t turn it off, or tune it out, or sleep, or think about anything else.

 

He does try. He tries so hard to keep busy, to keep his mind off it.

 

The first day, he works on a busted ship- one no one really expects to make it back into working condition again- because Poe is always telling him how important it is to practice, and because he thinks maybe, maybe he _can_ get it sky-worthy again, and he thinks, if, if, _if_ Poe makes it back to him, that he’d be so proud, so thrilled, so impressed.

 

The second day, his worries have multiplied even further, as the 48 hour mark looms overhead. Finn goes to help in the kitchens that, though he’s not sure how much help he is, sleep deprived and wrought with worry. Really, they’re helping _him_ down there more than he's helping them, because the staff are such a chatty bunch. They never stop talking, and they known Finn well enough to know what’s got him thrown, and put every effort into helping distract him from his woes.

 

The third morning, he’s back  down there, not even _trying_ to put on the pretense of helping. He can’t. He can’t focus on anything. He'd tried to help chop up some veggies and nearly lost a finger, and ended up getting shouted at by the head chef, Madji, a squat, kindly and forceful woman who orders him to stop helping at once. So he just sits there on a table , trying to listen to the stories they’re telling mostly for his benefit, and really just staring off into space, imagining the worst.

 

Then Anya comes in with a crate full of fresh, juicy vegetables and a monster of a grin on her face.

 

“Finn!” she cries, bursting through the door and dropping the crate on the counter so hard that a few of the the items jump out and go rolling across the kitchen floor. Madji gives her a scowl, but it quickly melts away as Anya starts to speak.

 

“He’s back! I just heard, when I was out in the gardens! Poe’s back, or will be in a few min...Uh, see you later, then,” she finishes with a laugh as Finn goes tearing out the door without a word, barely taking in any of the knowing looks the kitchen staff are sharing with one another.

 

Finn flies to him faster than he ever has before, feet pounding against the tarmac, slamming into Poe without any effort to reduce the force of collision, arms tight around him.

 

“Hey,” Poe gasps against him, returning the hug. “Hey,” he says again, and his hand comes up to stroke the back of Finn’s head. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” He must be able to feel Finn shaking. He can’t seem to  _stop._

 

“I was losing my mind,” Finn mumbles into his ear. He’s glad they’re pressed together close enough that Poe can’t see the tears that have sprung to his eyes. “What _happened?”_

 

“They got a trace onto our both of our ships. Couldn’t get them off ourselves and it wasn’t easy in that sector to find someone sympathetic enough to the Resistance to risk helping. We got here as soon as we could.”

 

Finn doesn’t say anything. It’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. It doesn’t mean he wasn’t _physically ill_ with worry for the past two and a half days.

 

He clings even tighter to Poe. He’s been hugging him too long, probably, but he can’t bring himself to let go.

Holding him like this, so close, so hard, is proof that he’s _real,_ that he’s actually here as opposed to dead or captured on some cold First Order ship.

 

Poe hugs back for a bit, still stroking and patting at the back of Finn’s head, but after a time, he shifts in Finn’s grip- not quite pulling away- and clears his throat. “Uh. I’d be happy to do this all day, buddy, but… well this time I really _had_ better head straight to command for debriefing. There’s a lot to tell them.”

 

Finn jumps back, face hot. “Yeah. Yeah. Of course. I’ll- walk there with you. If that’s okay?” He hopes it is. He’s not ready to let Poe out of his sight yet.

 

Poe gives him a warm smile, “Of course.”

 

They head inside, and now Finn _is_ aware of more than a few sets of eyes on them out on the tarmac, but he can’t bring himself to care much about the display he’d just made.

 

Poe is here. He’s alive. That’s _all_ that matters. Let them think what they want. It’s not like it isn’t true.

 

__

Poe has barely slept in three days. He’d been fighting to keep his eyes open for the last leg of the journey and despite knowing there would be need to be a long meeting with command upon his arrival, all he’d wanted as he’d pulled up on the tarmac was to stumble into his bunk and not move for a week.

 

And then Finn had come at him with the force of a wrecking ball, and held him, _shaking,_ for ages and knocked all the exhaustion right out of him.

 

Poe wonders how long it would have gone on if he hadn’t put a stop to it. He wishes he _hadn’t_ put a stop to it. Still, as he walks through the hall with Finn at his side, yammering on about how worried they all were about him, Poe feels like he’s floating.

It might not mean all that he wants it to, but the extent to which Finn cares for him _is_ staggering. Powerful. Touching.

He wishes more than anything he could just take Finn’s head in his hands, press him gently against the corridor wall and silence his fretful chatter with a fervent kiss.

 

It’s a crazy thought, and he tries to suppress it. Just because he  _wants_ Finn to want such a thing does not mean that he actually does. Poe is well aware of that, and puts it down to sleep deprivation and a too-long hug that the desires he usually keeps well buried are brimming so close to the surface.

 

They’re almost to the command center, and they both slow down their pace a bit as they approach the door where they’ll need to part.

 

“Listen,” Poe says. “I’ve got to do this and then- I _really_ need to lie down for a bit- but... when I’m up, let’s do something, yeah? Get out of here. I know Jess and Snap took you out flying while I was gone. At least they better have. Maybe you can show me some of what they taught you?”

Finn grins wide. “Sounds good. Find me after you get some sleep.”

 

“Will do.”

 

They gaze at each other for a moment, Finn’s relief and happiness written all over his face.

 

Poe’s chest feels tight as he tries to smile reassuringly back.

 

“Glad you’re back, Poe,” Finn says, quietly. He reaches forward again and gives Poe one more hug, pressing his cheek against his. It’s brief but warm, and he smells like the spices of the kitchens. Poe breathes him in for just moment before he’s gone, leaving Poe’s heart beating a little faster in his wake.

 

Poe goes in to give his report, trying not to smile too big.

\---

They take out a ship that seats two, and Poe puts Finn up front, in charge. He’s not sure Finn will ever be quite ready to pilot his own X-Wing (and a protective, selfish part of Poe is quite glad of that) but talking with the General a while back, they’d both agreed Finn ought to have the basics of flight down.

 

She’s been more than impressed with Finn’s tactical abilities, and has an interest in utilizing his skills for missions coming up. Poe’s sure Leia’s only said as much as a courtesy to him, to get him used to the idea that Finn might be involved with dangerous things again before long.  Poe has mixed feelings about that, but it’s not for him to decide. Things are progressing with collecting intel on stormtroopers, and he’s positive Finn will want to be part of it, whatever that might mean.

 

He can’t stop him. All he can do is make sure he’s ready.

 

So Poe takes a back seat, and let’s Finn show him what he’s learned. Poe sits behind him, offering up suggestions, giving him feedback and advice, telling him he’s got it, that he should be proud of how much he’s learned.

 

Soon enough they’re going smooth, flying with ease, chatting as they go, flying over the lush forests and mountains of D’qar. Poe’s telling him about the gruff old woman they’d found on Cecillion who’d agreed to take the tracker off their ship without charge, but had also forced them to eat some foul version of bread that tasted more like marbles.

 

He’s in the middle of lamenting the damage he must have done to his teeth, when, without warning, an alarm starts to blare and red lights flash, and the ship lurches so hard that Poe let’s out a strangled noise against his seat belt.  

 

“Um- Poe? What-” Finn starts, looking around nervously.

 

“Not sure,” Poe frowns. “Flip the switch on that panel there, will you? No, no, up a bit. Yeah. That’s the one.”

 

Finn does. Nothing happens.

 

Not good. Not good at all- but the important thing is to keep calm- to keep _Finn_ calm, because he’s the one who’s able to get them out of this right now.

 

“Right. It’s not your fault, Finn, but it looks as though we’re going down. I want you fly steady- as steady as you can, and head for the lake. It’s just ahead. We can make it. We’ll land it in there, okay? We’ll be fine. Minimal damage.”

 

“Okay,” Finn says, a little shaky, but Poe’s calm seems to be keeping him calm too. Poe reaches forward and pats him on the shoulder.

 

“You’ve got this, Finn. Don’t worry. I know you do.”

 

Poe reaches forward and silences the blaring alarm- they’re perfectly aware of the danger now, no need for that hideous distraction.

 

He mutters soothing encouragement to Finn. They’re losing altitude fast, but they’ll make it to the lake. He’s sure they will.

 

“There!” Poe says, relieved, once they’re over the blue waters. “Alright, Finn, you did it. Let us down now, we’re fine. Get yourself out as soon as we touch down, alright?”

 

They hit the surface.

 

Smoke is billowing out behind them and Finn releases the hatch to open the top of the ship and scrambles out of his seat belt. Poe reaches under Finn’s seat and pulls out an emergency pack, and then they’re  both jumping out into the water. They kick away from the ship a bit, which is already starting to sink.

.

“Here,” Poe says, opening the pack and holding it out to Finn. “Put your boots in here. It’ll make the swim easier.” They both take off their shoes and pack them away, and Poe surveys the lake trying to get his bearings.

 

“Think you can make it to that shore?” he says, pointing to the western bank. “It’s further away, but it’s closer to base.”

 

Finn nods and Poe grins, gripping his shoulder. “Good flying, Finn. Real good flying.”

 

Finn smiles, still looking a bit shaken, and they head for shore.

 

It’s a long swim, and they’re both tired, but they pace themselves and soon enough they’re at the point where they can touch bottom. At last, they come up on the shore, and both collapse on the beach, flat on their backs in the sand, panting.

 

“Kriff,” Finn pants after a while, looking wiped and a just a touch exhilarated.

 

“I know,” Poe says.

 

“They’re not going to be thrilled about that,” Finn mutters, pointing toward where the ship went down. Poe shakes his head.

 

“Wasn’t anything we could have done. Some kind of mechanical failure. They should be able to pull it out and fix it up easily enough though. They’ve got the equipment.”

 

“So,” Finn says, sitting up and looking at him, still out of breath. “What next? You got a working comm?”

 

Poe sits up too and pulls the pack towards him. He goes through the emergency box and pulls one out, fiddles with it and gets no signal at all. “Figures. We’re not even that far from base and still...nothing. I know the Resistance is broke, but they could stand to put some resources towards better tech,” he mutters, throwing the useless thing back into the bag.

 

“Well. There’s gotta be a tracking device in the ship, right? Someone will realize we’re not back and come looking,” Finn says, optimistic.

 

Poe gives Finn a sheepish look. “Uh. About that. In my desire to be… away from base and in your delightful company.... I may have, uh- _forgotten_ to log it into the system.”

 

“Forgotten, huh?” Finn says, dubious.

 

“Okay, okay. Blatantly ignored protocol in favor of getting out here faster. Pretty poor role modeling on my part,” he says. “This is very much a ‘do as I say, not as I do’ moment.”

 

Finn laughs at that, a rich, hearty sound. “You know what she’s going to say about that right?” and Poe knows exactly who he means, though it’s made even clearer when Finn crosses his arms and scrunches up his face in fury. “You _may be_ the golden boy of the Resistance, Poe Dameron, but that doesn’t put you above anyone else. These rules are in place for a _reason_ \- that reason being the _safety_ of the people I am responsible for, which happens to include half-wits such as yourself-”

 

Poe cackles. “That is a shockingly good Leia Organa. Not sure if she would praise you or murder you if she could see you at it.”

"I don't plan on ever attempting it within a ten mile radius of base, so we'll never have to find out," Finn says with a smirk. 

Their laughter fades soon fades though as the look at the jungle all around them, and Poe sobers up, thinking through the reality of their situation.

 

“Well- here’s the situation, as I see it. Because of my 100% not recommended rule-shirking, no one will realize we’re missing ‘til at least dinner. Even then, they might just assume we skipped or something. But we’re not actually too far away from the base. We could either wait here for a day or more until they find us, by which time certain individuals will be extremely pissed off….or we could walk back. We could get most of the way there by dark, and finish the rest of it in the morning. Might even make it back in time for breakfast. How do you feel about a camp out?” Poe says, waggling his eyebrows at Finn.

 

Finn shrugs, a little dubious. “Can’t say I’ve ever had one before. But it does make sense. If that’s what you think we should do…”

 

“I wouldn’t mind minimizing the wrath of the higher ups a little,” Poe admits, ducking his head a little. “Besides,” he says, looking up again and giving Finn a playful shove. “I’m an expert camper. It’ll give me a chance to show off my skills. I’ve got so many.”

 

That gets a smile and an eye-roll out of Finn. “Alright, hot shot. Let’s go.”

 

Poe has a decent sense of direction, and there’s a map in the emergency box that proves useful. They head out into the jungle, still sopping wet, and cut their way through dense under story.

 

Once in awhile, they get lucky and find some game trails made by animals to follow to make the journey easier. Finn’s an amazingly good sport, taking in the jungle with enthusiasm, pointing out weird flowers and the tall, buttressed trees with wide eyes and bright smiles.

 

They see an array of animals as they go, and Finn gets more than a little excited whenever they do. “Did you see that thing? _So weird,_ any idea what’s it called?”

 

D’qar was uninhabited before they arrived here, and none of the animals have been named, but Poe, in a fit of silliness, decides to make a game of inventing names. He gives each discovery a progressively stupider name, wondering how long it will take for Finn to catch on.

 

He feels a little evil as he does it, with the guileless way Finn nods and repeats what he says to internalize it, but the payoff proves _so_ worth it.

 

“A… _Snub-nosed Florpjop?”_ Finn says, wrinkling his nose and side-eyeing Poe as a small mammal scuttles into the underbrush.

 

Poe’s done a really good job so far of keeping a straight face, but his mouth twitches a bit at the sight of Finn’s growing suspicion. He tries to hide it, but he’s not quick enough and Finn’s expression morphs from suspicion turns to pure outrage. “You’re _lying!_ ” he cries and Poe bursts into laughter.

 

Finn slaps him on the arm. “Were you lying about _all of them?”_

 

“Um-” Poe tries, unable to fight the smirk off his face, and that’s enough for Finn.

 

“Of course you were!” he says, half-laughing, shaking his head with disbelief. “That’s vile. Taking advantage of my not knowing kriff about the galaxy. You’re a monster, Poe Dameron.”

 

“I know,” Poe agrees, bowing his head gravely. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

 

“Pffft,” Finn snorts. “No you are not.”

They grin at each other, Finn gives him a shove and they carry on. “I can’t believe you. I’ll never trust anything you say again,” Finn mutters as they go.

 

But the next avian they circling, Finn points to it solemnly and says, “Ah. The Red-winged Snorkwit: master of the skies, ” and they both crack up.

 

It’s _lovely_ , really, being out here with him.

 

It makes Poe think about a future where they don’t have to fight anymore. Where they can find some nice, lush planet to live on and take walks like this all the time, without a care in the world. If such a future is ever within his grasp, he hopes Finn will be at his side. Sometimes it doesn’t seem like such an impossible dream.

 

He thinks about that day, after Halloween, when Finn had laid his head in Poe’s lap for hours as dumb holos played in the background, or the fierceness of their hug, and the way Finn had been shaking when he'd returned this morning, and it doesn’t seem like such a foolish hope.

It’s becoming harder to keep such thoughts at bay, but he knows he has to, if he wants to keep his heart intact. Finn is affectionate. He always has been. It stands to reason his affection would grow along with their friendship. He shouldn’t get ahead of himself. He musn’t.

 

After a while, they reach a small stream. The jungle is humid and hot, even in the late afternoon sun. They ditched their flight suits and shoved them into the bag a while back, but even in pants and t-shirts, it’s still stifling.

 

Finn bends down to splash cool water on his face, then wipes some of it away with the collar of a shirt that _clings,_ revealing a flash of taut stomach.

 

When he sees it, Poe has to bite his lip and look away, a new rush of heat coming over him that has nothing to do with the tropical climate.

 

__

 

“It’s starting to get dark,” Poe says, inclining his head towards the lowering sun. “We should probably pick a spot soon and try and gather up some drier wood. Not the best climate for starting fires...but like I said, I’m an expert,” he winks at Finn, who rolls his eyes in return. He knows Poe is only putting on a show of arrogance, but looking at him in the soft, glowing light Finn can’t help thinking that has every right to be as arrogant as he pleases. He’s a kriffing perfect specimen of man, and it’s getting harder not to have that thought burning constantly at the forefront of his brain.

 

“Yeah, well. I certainly hope you’re not all talk, Dameron,” he says, elbowing him. “It gets chilly enough here at night even down at base. I don’t suppose we’ll be get much lower in elevation before dark.”

 

“No,” Poe shakes his head. “I’m hoping to find a good spot in the next ten or fifteen minutes, so we have enough light to collect wood. But don’t worry. I’ll keep you plenty warm,” he says. Their eyes connect for a minute and Finn know's Poe's startled expression must be a mirror of his own.

Finn _knows_ perfectly well what he meant by it, but his stomach gives an involuntary flip anyway. Poe bites his lip and mutters, “with my, uh, aforementioned fire-starting skills, I mean.”

 

 _Was that a blush_?

 

Finn thinks it might have been, but the light is getting low as the sun fades and he can’t be sure. 

 

Soon enough, they find a spot that’s a little bit open, with a big rock they can put their backs too, and flat, mostly clear area to sleep on. Poe pulls a thermal blanket out of the emergency kit and lays it down.

 

Finn glances at it, noting that there’s only one and it’s rather small with a slight thrill, and then busies himself with hanging up their damp flight suits to dry on a small tree close to the spot where he thinks Poe will start the fire. He’s not sure how dry they’ll actually get in the damp of the jungle, but it’s worth a shot. 

 

Then Poe shows him what they’re looking for in terms of firewood and kindling, and they busy themselves collecting some until the light’s just about gone. Finn helps Poe arrange rocks in a small circle to form a fire pit, and then sits back to watch Poe get it going. He delights in the opportunity to watch Poe closely as he works, trying to take in his very useful instructions instead of getting overly distracted by the deft skill of his hands, or how unfairly attractive he is as he chews his lip in concentration.

 

Poe’s got it blazing within ten minutes, and makes a point to go on and on about how that’s no easy task in such a wet jungle. Finn laughs and lays on lavish, over-the-top compliments, praising the gods for letting him get lost with such an incredibly talented woodsman.

 

It’s not flirting. At least, he doesn’t _think_ it’s coming off as flirting. Kriff, he doesn’t know. There’s not much he’s sure about these days.

 

They sit around the warmth of the fire, chewing on some rations from the emergency kit, as well as some fruit Finn found during his search for wood; juicy, ripe orange ones that he knows are safe to eat, thanks to his gardener friends.

 

Poe tells him stories about camping with his dad as a kid, and Finn thinks how nice it all is, how nice it would be to do it _more._

 

Then there’s a weird cry out in the jungle, and Finn has to voice a thought he had more than once throughout the day, and even more so since darkness fell.

 

“So, um. Are there any...dangerous animals out here?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant. Poe gives him a little grin, nudging his shoulder against Finn’s.

 

“Getting nervous?”

 

“Maybe,” Finn says, with some defiance, crossing his arms and squinting at Poe with a _so what if I am?_ expression. “I’ve never slept outside before, except for during basic. And that was always on barren planets. Rocks only.”

 

“I’m just teasing,” Poe says, and Finn notices he hasn’t actually pulled his arm away since nudging him. They’re shoulder to shoulder. Poe goes on,  “You should have seen how spooked I used to get on the first few trips we took when I was a kid. My dad _loved_ it and loved messing me with me. He used to play the most awful pranks-”

 

“You try any of that, and I’ll throttle you in your sleep,” Finn warns, though he’s smiling.

 

“You have my word,” Poe says, hands up. “Anyway, they did some basic bio-surveys of the area before they set up the base, just to make sure there wasn’t anything twelve feet tall that snacks on people roaming about. The biggest carnivores are only yea high,” he says, gesturing in the air around knee height.

 

“And a fire’s usually enough to keep most animals away. Besides,” he adds, elbowing Finn. “Even if there _was_ something dangerous...you know I’d protect you.” He flexes his muscles and gives Finn an exaggerated wink.

 

Finn laughs, and shoves him, muttering, “ _Yeah right”_ because it’s much easier to do that than to contemplate whether there’s even a chance it’s an indication of deeper feelings.

 

This is becoming a bit much for him to handle, honestly, having Poe alone, to himself for so long. Knowing he’ll lie next to him all night, that he can fall asleep to the sound of him breathing. He feels hot, and shifts back a bit from the fire, which also means shifting away from Poe. It’s for the best, probably. Finn’s resolve to hold back has been weakening from the moment Poe touched back down on the planet today.

 

They stay up for a bit longer, sitting around the fire, sometimes talking, sometimes just staring into the hypnotic embers. After a spell, Poe stretches and stands up.

 

“We should try to get some sleep. We may as well get up with the sun and head back to base. It’s impossible to get any sleep once it gets bright anyway.” He picks up the rest of the firewood they collected and adds it to the fire. “That should burn for most of the night.”

 

Finn stands, does a bit of stretching of his own and they walk over to the thermal blanket laid out on the ground. It doesn’t look particularly inviting. Finn walks over to their hanging flight suits and feels them.

 

“These are dry enough to work as pillows,” he says, passing Poe’s to him. He’s already sitting down on one half of the blanket. He takes it with a thanks and starts arranging it into a bundle. After a moment of hesitation, Finn sits down beside him and does the same. They look at each other for a moment. Finn feels a rush of awkwardness and wonders if he’s the only one. Poe offers him a small smile and says,

 

“Night, buddy.”

 

“Night,” he responds, and settles down on his back, looking up into a sky full of stars. “Wow,” he says.

 

“I know, right?” Poe agrees, settling beside him. “Never gets old. It feels so different too, watching them from a planet versus being up there.”

 

“Never had much of a chance to do this before,” Finn murmurs. Then, breathing in with a satisfied sigh, he adds, “and the _sounds._ It’s amazing to be surrounded by so many things that are so _alive.”_

 

The forest is a cacophony of nocturnal chatter, insects chirping rhythmically, night birds cooing, far off mammals lending their cries intermittently to the mix. With the crackle of the large fire and Poe beside him, Finn’s earlier fears have more or less dissipated and he allowed himself to enjoy it, another moment among thousands he never could have imagined while trapped in the First Order. “What do you suppose they’re saying?” he asks absently, after listening for a while.

 

He’s not looking at Poe, but he can _hear_ the smirk in his voice as he says, “Prob’ly something along the lines of _Please have sex with me, ladies. I am by far the strongest and handsomest bug in this jungle. All other bugs are inferior. It is known.”_

Finn snorts loudly, and gives Poe a shove, still looking up at the sky. “A bit more literal than I was looking for, but thanks for that.”

 

They lapse into silence again, listening to the sounds. It had been a long, exhausting day.

 

Is Poe getting sleepy at all? Finn finds that, in spite of everything, he’s really, really not.

 

It’s not fear keeping him up- he’s quite comfortable with his surroundings now.

 

Maybe it’s the lack of a blanket.

It’s funny, really. In the First Order, they always slept in these sterile sleeping pods, perfectly temperature controlled so they didn’t need them. But he _has_ them in the Resistance, in his bunk. They’re nothing special, of course. He’s heard Ziff grumbling more than once about how they’re scratchy, how he’s going to buy some of his own the next chance he gets rather than sticking with the standard-issue ones.

 

But Finn’s gotten _used_ to it, that feeling of being enveloped by something soft. The night is cool, if not cold, and he shifts on his side a little, wrapping his arms around himself.

 

Poe is still on his back, looking at the stars. Awake.

 

Finn aches to think of how much better it would be, if he could just reach out to Poe, to press against him, to share in his warmth.

 

It’s a _torment,_ having him so close and not being able to touch him the way that he wants to. How long can he go on like this, really? Is he just going to feel like this forever? Hopelessly enamored and unable to breathe a word about it? Over-thinking every moment that ever passes between them, wondering if there’s anything _more_ lying under the friendly affection? Wondering if there’s any conceivable scenario where Poe might be able to return his feelings?

 

His chest constricts, like it does so often these days, so much so that it _hurts._ Although it’s a obviously an entirely different, situation- barely comparable, really- it reminds him of the suffocating, claustrophobic feelings he used to get in the First Order in the months that led up to his escape.

 

He’d made a choice then, that he didn’t want to feel like that anymore. That he would risk anything and everything not to feel those things.

 

It was the _right_ choice. He knows that, with all of his heart. Even if he’d died in the crash of Jakku, or in the heat of the desert, it _still_ would have been the right choice.

 

Maybe he needs to just harness some of that courage now.

 

Tell Poe how he feels, for better or worse. Because he _knows_ now, without a doubt, that Poe would never cast him aside, no matter what. If he doesn’t feel the same way, if he’s committed to Max and can only ever see Finn as a friend, at least if he says something, Finn will _know once and for all._

 

He’ll hear the words, and yeah, they might ( _will)_ hurt, but he’ll _know._ He can figure out a way to deal with it, to move forward and let it go, rather than getting caught up in his head, clinging to hopes and fantasies.

 

The thought is _terrifying_ but once it takes root, Finn knows he needs to do it. Watching Poe’s profile, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his dark, wavy hair reflects moonlight and firelight, he knows it’s time. The need Finn has to just reach out and touch _all of him-_ he can’t keep this up any longer without it taking a toll.

 

“Hey, Poe,” he says, quietly, before he loses his nerve. “You awake?”

 

“Yeah. What’s up?” Poe asks. He sounds sleepy and content. Finn prays he won’t hate him for the way he’s about to take him out of that.

 

“Can I... ask you a question?” he asks, hoping his voice didn’t sound as strained to Poe as it does to himself.

 

Poe shifts onto his side so he’s facing Finn. He obviously picked up on _something_ because he looks concerned as he says, “Sure. Of course. What is it?”

 

Finn hesitates. His heart is going to pound out of his chest, he’s sure of it. He’s faced things scarier than this. Much scarier. He knows that. And yet those memories feel like fuzzy blurs, while this is in vivid, screaming color. His palms start to sweat and he grips tightly to the fabric of his pants.

 

_Just ask him. Just ask him. You need to know._

 

“Are you... in love with Max?”

 

Because that’s the real question. The one that determines if he can go forward at all. If Poe says that he is, Finn knows. He knows everything he’s been dreaming about needs to stay in his head and that he has to figure out away to bury it all, to let the idea of a _them_ go.

 

Poe’s mouth drops open a little as he registers the question. He obviously wasn’t expecting that.

 

His face furrows into a little frown, and Finn’s stomach knots painfully. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he’s being rude. Maybe-

 

“Um-” he says quickly, because Poe seems thrown. “You don’t have to answer that, if you don’t want to. Obviously. Sorry, I was just-”

 

“No,” Poe says. “It’s okay. I’ll answer it. I...I’m just- I’m trying to think about...how _.”_

 

Finn hasn’t got a clue what that means. Poe seems flustered and uncomfortable and part of Finn wishes he’d never asked. A small part. The rest of him is riveted, desperate for an answer.

 

The fact that it hadn’t been an immediate ‘ _of course’_ is already setting something inside him on fire, a little flame of hope that could very much start to overwhelm him any second now and he knows he’s getting ahead of himself, but he can’t help it. Poe might not be quite looking at him, but Finn’s unable to take his eyes off Poe.

 

“Uh,” Poe says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I guess the short answer would be...no. No, I’m not.”

 

Finn’s head spins and his heart leaps into his throat. He’s _not._ He’s not.

 

He can’t help it. He needs to know more. “And- uh. If you were to give a longer answer…?” he prods, face burning hot, pulse pounding in his ears.

 

Poe’s hand goes up to scratch at his hair, combing through it with his fingers. He’s very purposefully not looking Finn directly in the eyes as he starts to speak, “I guess I mean... obviously I do care about him, a lot. He’s a good man. A great man. I worry about him whenever he’s gone. But- the thing is, if he was actually _here,_ at the base- I don’t think we’d be _together._ Not exclusively. Not all the time. And we’d both...be fine with that. I don’t think that quite adds up to what being in love means,” Poe says, finally meeting his eyes again.

 

Poe looks deeply uncomfortable, but for Finn, this is the biggest reason to hope he’s had since the day he realized he was in love with Poe.

 

He’s going to push it. He has to. “So...what _do_ you think it means, then? Being in love?”

 

Poe actually winces at the question, his eyes going wide. “Kriff, buddy, you’re uh- you’re bringing out the big guns of conversation tonight, aren’t you?”

 

Finn has the absurd urge to grin, at the nervousness he sees on display here. It’s _endearing._ Which is foolish, because he should _not_ be reading into things this early, but he can’t help it.

 

Instead he fights down the smile and forces himself to look solemn as he says, “You don’t have to answer that either, if you don’t want to.”

 

He shamelessly goes out of his way to make his eyes big,  though, to make his mouth pouty, to paint on an expression that reads, _Of course you don’t have to...but you will, right? For me?_

 

“Uh- no. It’s fine. I’ll give it a shot,” Poe says, and he rubs hard at his temples. He breathes in heavily, breathes out slowly, like he’s getting ready to do _battle._ Finn waits.

 

“I guess...I think it would mean _wanting_ those things, wouldn’t it? Exclusivity. Being together as much as you possible could. Feeling like...the universe just isn’t quite right if they’re not at your side. You’d...want your lives tied together, in every way they could be,” He bites his lip, and his eyes are deep pools as they reflect firelight.

 

He looks _tortured_ for a moment, eyes locked on Finn’s, but then he stops biting his lip, takes another deep breath and goes on, “There’d be... planning for a future, I think. Or not planning, exactly. You can’t really _plan,_ in the middle of a rebellion, when everything’s so uncertain but- dreaming of one, maybe. Thinking about what it might be like, to build a home...start a family. And that...That could never be us. Max and I. Um... does that answer your question?” he asks weakly. “Because, I have to admit, talking about this is...pretty embarrassing.”

 

Finn is again, tempted to grin at the sight before him, the sheen of sweat on Poe’s forehead and the _vulnerability_ he sees there, but that wouldn’t be fair. Poe might think he was laughing at him, instead of just _adoring_ him and his sweet, bashful, raw honesty. He keeps his expression serious as he nods.

 

“It does. Thank you. And I don’t think it’s anything to be embarrassed about. What you said.” he adds.

 

“Oh. Well. Okay,” Poe says. He still looks deeply uncomfortable, and Finn would feel bad for putting him through all that if it hadn’t shaken up his world in the best way.

 

Because the _possibility for a them_ has never felt so real, so within his grasp.

 

Because it _lines up._

 

Poe _does_ spend almost all his free time with Finn.

 

And when they do he _does_ talk about a future, a future without war, quite often. And he always paints a future he sees Finn in.

 

_When this thing is over, you’ll have to come to Yavin and see. It’s beautiful, Finn, I’m not doing it justice by a long shot._

 

_If this kriffing war ever ends, we’ll get tickets and you can see them for yourself. Nothing compares to hearing them live, I’m telling you._

 

_Yeah, you put these shoes with metal blades on your feet and you just skate around on the ice in big circles. I only ever did it once myself- Yavin IV was too hot to have any rinks, but we’ll do it, if we ever get a chance. And trip all over ourselves ‘til our knees are black and blue, I’m sure, but that’s half the fun of it, you’ll see._

 

There are more of them than he can count, but Poe always does talk to Finn like they’ll be in each other’s lives forever.

 

There’s no guarantee, of course, that he means it as anything beyond friendship, but it’s enough that Finn is ready to risk it. Because if there’s even the _slightest_ chance that he could share in all that Poe just said...a home...a family...he _has_ to do it.

 

“Hey, Poe,” he says again.

 

“Yeah?” Poe asks, and there might be a note of dread in his voice. Which is fair, considering all the personal stuff Finn just forced him to talk about.

 

“Do you- uh. Remember on Halloween night? When I said- that I didn’t want your help, uh- finding someone to get...experience with?”

 

“Uh. Yeah. Sure. W-what about it?” Poe says, confused by what he obviously thinks is an odd change of subject, though it is, of course, very much relevant.

 

Okay. Finn’s getting nervous again. It’s hard, trying to figure out how to say aloud all the things that have been written plain across his heart for months.

 

 _Courage, Finn. Have courage._ “I think- I think the reason I turned it down was because I realized there’s really only one person I have any interest in doing...anything like that with.”

 

Poe’s mouth falls open a little bit. He looks- upset. That’s the only way to describe it. Finn feels his stomach sink.

 

What if he’s wrong? What if Poe gets exactly what he’s saying, and is horrified, trying desperately to think of a way to let him down gently. Finn is just about to start rambling out something along the lines of _it’s obviously fine if you don’t feel the same way_ when Poe speaks.

 

“Oh,” Poe says, quietly. “D’you mean- I mean, I suppose you mean- you’d rather wait? For her to come back?”

 

Finn gapes at him for a moment, before it becomes immediately obvious who Poe is talking about. He wants to laugh as he realizes what Poe must have been thinking all along, but he knows it’s not the right way to go.

 

Instead, he offers benign confusion.

 

“What? Who’s _her?”_

 

Poe looks at him like he’s worried Finn might have a head injury. “Uh. Rey. You mean Rey, don’t you? Which...makes sense...and I’m sure she will be back soo-”

 

“I don’t mean Rey,” Finn says, before the poor man gets too far into it. He gives Poe a pointed look. Can he _really_ not piece it together?

 

Poe looks at him in total bafflement, and now Finn can’t help but roll his eyes. “Wow, you’re really not going to make this easy on me, are you? Poe Dameron, I’m talking about _you.”_

 

Poe’s mouth drops open.

 

 _Really?_ Finn thinks. _Is it really_ that shocking? And he’d been worried all along about being too painfully obvious.

 

When Poe continues to stare at him without saying anything, and it starts to stretch into uncomfortable, and doubt comes rushing in. If all this time, Poe’s thought he was in love with Rey- maybe he never felt anything for Finn after all, maybe it was all just wishful thinking and this is blowing his mind, in a _not good_ way.

 

Panicked, Finn forces himself to maintain eye contact with Poe as he says, “I’m sorry- if you don’t...feel the same. Or if it- if it makes things weird, between us, but I hope it won’t, at least not for long. But I understand if-”

 

He stops talking when Poe reaches out to grip his wrist tight. “Finn,” he says, and Finn snaps his mouth shut, ready to listen to whatever it is he has to say. As soon as Finn goes quiet, Poe looks at him with endless warmth in his eyes and says, quiet and clear, “I am absolutely, one hundred percent _crazy_ about you.”

 

Relief crashes over him like a wave, and a second later, Finn’s wearing a grin a mile wide.

“ _Really?”_

 

“Yeah,” Poe says, with a rush of laughter. “Over the _moon._ I mean- literally _everyone_ knows it.”

 

He looks as relieved as Finn feels, and he’s also smiling, his eyes sparkling, and he hasn’t let go of Finn’s wrist.

 

“Everyone?” Finn asks weakly. “I...I definitely didn’t.”

 

Poe breathes out. “Then I guess I did a better job hiding it around you than anyone else. The pilots have been torturing me about it for months. They’re borderline evil about it sometimes. Even the _General_ has dropped some less than subtle hints...and then there’s Max...”

 

“ _Max?”_ Finn says, and it comes out more like a yelp than anything else but... _what?_

 

“Oh yeah,” Poe says. “He picked up on it right away. He uh- do you remember the day he left? In the hangar bay?”

 

“Yeah,” Finn says. Of course he remembers. He’d replayed it in his head a thousand times, and a thousand more with himself in Max’s place. “What about it?”

 

“He uh- knew you were watching. He...kissed me like that on purpose. To make you jealous.”

 

Finn is stunned. “Well...it definitely worked,” he manages to get out, rubbing at the back of his neck.

 

Poe’s grin stretches from ear to ear. Finn shakes his head, “You know, that’s actually pretty messed up...”

 

Poe has the decency to _try_ to fight the grin off his face, and he does for a moment, “You’re right. You’re right. It definitely is,” he says, but it’s back nearly at once and his eyes are twinkling with amusement.

 

“Then stop laughing,” Finn mutters, trying to glare at him. It’s hard, when he’s so full of joyous disbelief.

 

“I’m not,” Poe says, and his hand releases Finn’s wrist and goes up to cover his mouth. “I’m not.”

 

Without thinking, Finn reaches up and drags it away, chiding, “Obviously you are. Covering your mouth isn’t fooling anyone, Dameron.”

 

Then, as Finn holds Poe’s wrist in his own, there’s a visible _shift_ in the energy between them, and it goes from playful to _heated._ Poe’s eyes are fixated on his mouth. Finn’s breath catches in his throat.

 

“Sorry,” Poe says quietly, barely above a whisper. Finn loosens the grip he has on Poe’s wrist, and then their hands are intertwined. Poe softly runs his thumb along Finn’s and the pleasurable shiver goes straight down his spine.  His eyes are soft as he says, “I’m just a little giddy, I suppose. That this is- _actually happening_. I’ve thought about it for...way too long,”

“How long?” Finn asks. He’d made the first move in this whole, crazy thing after all, admitted his feelings, admitted his jealousy. He’s feeling an awkward imbalance, and he wants to _know._

 

He can just make out the color that rises to Poe’s cheeks in the firelight. Even if he couldn’t, everything else about his body language screams _bashful._ Finn finds it more endearing than he could ever say.

 

“Um,” Poe mutters, long lashes flickering. “Probably from the day you arrived here. I- it might have been earlier, even, if I hadn’t- if I hadn’t feared you were dead or thought I’d never see you again.”

 

“Wow,” Finn says, raising his eyebrows. That is fairly mind boggling. “That _is_ a long time.”

 

Maybe it’s not fair to tease, to allow himself to look _smug,_ but he’s just so happy, and he can’t help it. It all seems so ridiculous, so silly that they’ve been dancing around this for _so long_ when they’ve both felt something so strong.

 

“Kriff off,” Poe mutters. He lets go of Finn’s hand, and brings his up so that his fingers are brushing gently over Finn’s forearm. “You didn’t exactly make it easy on a guy, did you? Showing up like a knight from kriffing fairy tales, whipping off your helmet, rescuing me from certain death.”

 

He gives Finn’s arm a squeeze and suddenly the night doesn’t feel so cool at all. It’s a _wild_ feeling after all this time, to hear Poe say something and be able to know without a shred of doubt that he is actually _flirting._

 

“Well then,” Finn says, giving Poe his best attempt at coy look. “What are you doing to do about it? I did the hard part, after all. Fessing up first” he teases, reaching forward to poke him in the belly, making him jump.

 

“I suppose you’re right about that,” Poe murmurs. He shifts a little bit closer. “Thank kriff you did.”

 

He’s gazing at Finn with plain adoration, in a way Finn never imagined anyone would ever look at him. His hand is snaking up his forearm and up towards his bicep, making goosebumps rise up wherever he touches, in the best possible way.

 

It’s lovely, but he’s going _so slow._

 

Finn feels the anticipation rising up in him, making him anxious. It’s clear now, that no matter what, things will be _good_ between them, because everything is so deeply mutual, but… he’s still aware that Poe is so much more physically experienced than he is, and there’s always a chance he’ll be awful at this kissing thing, and if he is he’d rather know right away.

 

“Well, then?” Finn asks, not able to mask his impatience. “Are you gonna- get to it?”

 

Poe grins at him. “Not sure. What exactly is it you’d like me to do?” he asks, still just stroking and squeezing along the muscle of his upper arm, happy, mischievous.

 

Finn scowls at him. “Think that’s pretty obvious,” he says, and he reaches out to tug the bottom of Poe’s shirt, pulling him a little closer. He wishes Poe would just _get on with it._

 

“I dunno,” Poe shrugs with an innocent expression. “If tonight proved anything, it’s that neither one of us is much good at picking up on the obvious. I think you might need to spell it out for me.”

 

Finn let’s out a growl of frustration. “ _Really?_ Fine then. Poe. I think it would be quite advisable for you to kiss me. Immediately. Please.”

 

Kriff. He can’t believe those words actually just left his mouth. That he was allowed to say them, and that doing so made Poe’s eyes darken with desire.

 

“Okay,” Poe says, and he shifts his body closer, moves in until their mouths are inches apart.

 

But he doesn’t kiss him.

 

He just _gazes_ at Finn _,_ into his eyes, at his lips, studying him like he’s a painting. Poe _licks_ his own lips as he does it, in a way that already makes Finn’s whole body start to heat up as blood pumps through it.

 

Times moving impossibly slowly. Poe’s hand comes up to slip behind Finn’s head, and he feels his thumb grazing back and forth against the back of his neck. It’s amazing, but it’s not _enough._

 

“ _Poe,”_ he says, almost a whine. “What are you _doing?”_

 

“Savoring the moment,” Poe murmurs, and his hand moves around so his thumb’s now caressing Finn’s cheek, slow and gentle.

 

Finn doesn’t learn it then, doesn’t learn it for a long time, but in that moment under the stars, Poe Dameron’s thoughts were centered very much on the idea that, (if he had anything to do with it) he was about to have the _last_ first kiss he’d ever have in his entire life. He wanted to drink in every detail and commit them to memory.

 

“I think we’ve waited long enough,” came Finn’s frustrated response. “Just kriffing _kiss me,_ will you? _”_ he pleads. “You’re making me nervous.”

 

Poe smiles. “Okay,” he says, and leans all the way in at last, bringing their mouths together in a way that is smooth and tender and better than anything Finn could have ever imagined.

 

Poe’s lips are soft against his, and warm, and he uses the hand at the back of Finn’s head to apply pressure, little by little, deepening their kiss in a way that makes Finn give an involuntary groan against his mouth. Slowly, Poe starts opening his mouth, just a little at a time, with Finn amazed and unsure and mirroring him, head spinning, hands reaching up to clutch at the fabric of Poe’s shirt in a desperate need to hold onto something solid so he doesn’t entirely melt away into the sweet tenderness of Poe’s kiss.

 

He feels the heat rushing through him, heading straight for his cock, and he doesn’t really know _what_ he’s doing, just he knows he wants _more_ , more friction, more of that _tongue_ that’s just about flickering against his mouth. He wants to yield to it entirely, to be entirely enveloped by this rushing need, this wild desire, but then, just as Finn’s hand starts to grip Poe’s shoulder tight in a desperate attempt to convey his longing for more, Poe pulls back, gasping for breath.

 

Finn resists the loss for a moment, until he sees the look in Poe’s soft eyes, and all the warmth with which he’s looking at him.

 

 _Okay._ It’s worth it. It’s worth it to see, written all over that _beautiful_ face of his, that Poe is just as unequivocally in love with this moment as he is.

 

“Like that?” Poe asks, after smiling at him for a long moment. They’re both already breathing hard, amazed and exhilarated.

 

Finn can’t even find the words to respond.

 

He just reaches out, tangles his hand in Poe’s wavy hair and crashes his mouth against Poe’s, hard enough to hurt.

 

It’s much clumsier than the way Poe kissed him, hungrier, less practiced, less controlled, but he hears Poe _moan_ into it and takes that to mean he doesn’t mind too much. The soft, slow, languid kiss of before is forgotten as they sink into each other, melding together in shared, desperate desire. Finn making up for his lack of experience with unbridled enthusiasm.

 

It’s all been pent up inside him for _so long_ that there’s no controlling it, no hiding it, no fighting it, even if he wanted to. Poe clearly feels the same and taking his cues from Finn’s fervent kissing, he matches it. Before long, their bodies seem to be acting of their own accord, frenzied and feverish in their attempts to get closer, to make up for all the lost time.

 

Poe’s tongue is hot and powerful as he shifts himself over Finn, delving deep into his mouth and his strong hands are _everywhere_ , slipping under his shirt, gripping the back of his neck tight, clutching at his waist.

 

Finn follows suit, also finding his way under Poe’s white, muddy t-shirt to grip at his lower back, digging his nails in because the need is too much, too great to do otherwise.

 

A thousand fantasies never even came close to this. Even though there’s a rock sticking into his back and the ground is hard and his flightsuit-pillow has already fallen apart in the mad rush of kissing and groping, it’s _perfect._

 

 _Poe_ is perfect, and he wants Finn. He _wants_ him. _He_ _wants him._ It’s a thought that makes him want to scream out his joy into the night. Finn would have crashed five hundred Resistance ships into the kriffing lake if he thought it would lead to something like this. Thankfully, it had only required one.

 

For a moment, he wonders how long it might have taken them to get here if they hadn’t crashed in the middle of the jungle, but he brushes it aside. It doesn’t matter, does it. He’d taken a leap, and landed straight into Poe’s arms, which are every bit as beautiful as the rest of him.

 

Finn’s hard. He’s achingly hard, and he’s sure Poe must be too, and soon enough he knows it for sure by the brush of it he occasionally feels as they make out.

 

Poe is in the midst of kissing his neck, and caressing his bare stomach and Finn is just groaning, his head thrown back, when Poe pulls back a bit from the place where he’d been biting and sucking so nicely and starts to mutter quietly into his ear.

 

“Finn,” he says, low and throaty, making him shudder pleasantly as warm breath hits the sensitive skin of his earlobe. The hand he had been gripping Finn’s waist with moves down and ghosts softly, briefly, over the fabric his cock is straining up against. It’s barely anything, just the lightest brush of fingertips, but his cock _jumps_ at the sensation. “Can I- can I touch you here?”

 

Finn’s eyes go wide, and Poe has shifted back to watch his reaction, hand resting on Finn’s waist again.

 

Obviously- _obviously_ he does want that, he’s _dying_ for it really, but the question sends a new rush of thoughts and nerves his way. “I…” Finn tries.

 

“Hey,” Poe says, softly, running a thumb over his cheek, cupping his face. “No is a perfectly acceptable answer. You know that.” It’s so gentle, so tender, and Finn just wants to hug him hard and never stop.

 

“It’s not that-” he says, trying again to figure out his thoughts and how exactly he wants to voice them. “I just- well, I might not know a lot about all of this, but…” He clears his throat. “I know there’s... _merit_ in being able to last a while and I’m not sure how much longer I _can,”_ he admits. “I’m feeling close to the edge here.”

 

Poe looks at him warmly, lovingly, and moves in for a quick, soft kiss.

 

“Is that all?” he asks kindly. He entwines their hands together again. “Finn, the fact that you’re having this reaction to me touching you at all is pretty much the best thing in the universe than I can possibly imagine. I wouldn’t worry too much about _lasting_ ,” he smiles, kissing him again.

 

Those words relax him infinitely, and he melts against Poe’s mouth, pulling him in closer. When their kiss breaks, Poe moves back to his neck and mumbles against it. “If it helps, I’m actually pretty kriffing close myself.”

 

Finn smiles. “Alright then. Yes. Please.”

 

Poe gives him a look that’s a mix of delighted and incredulous. “You sure?”

 

Finn nods, and Poe’s hands quickly move to fumble with Finn’s button and zip, and his mouth returns to the spot on Finn’s neck that makes him weak.

 

Finn feels a rush of relief as his cock gets some much needed breathing room, but is instantly overwhelmed as Poe gives him a gentle squeeze through the thin cotton of his underwear, and even more blood rushes right to his prick. He moans and bucks up against Poe’s hand, helpless, needy, unable to stop himself.

 

Poe let’s go, and Finn has to fight not to whine at the loss of contact, but a moment later Poe’s hand is slipping down past the waistband, and there’s _flesh against flesh,_ Poe’s soft warm hand gripping Finn’s aching cokc, giving him another squeeze, then moving up the length of his until he’s reaches the meaty head. Finn feels his thumb roam over it, rolling the slick at the tip of it down, spreading it, then coming back for more. Soon enough Poe’s got him slick and wet all the way down, pumping him slow and steady, varying pressure, never letting up his attention to Finn’s neck, driving him wild with stimulation.

 

It’s an exquisite torture, and Finn is just writhing under his touch, bucking up against him, wanting more friction, _needing_ it. He tries to stifle his moans, these wanton noises Poe is pulling out him, biting his lip to hold them back.

 

“Don’t,” Poe pleads, when he notices what he’s doing. Finn’s shirt has been hiked up high. There had been an attempt, at some point, to get it off him but they’d both gotten too busy with other things away. Still, his chest is exposed and Poe’s is kissing it, mouth pressed over his nipple, tongue flicking out against it. “Please. I love the sounds you make, Finn. Please, don’t stop.”

 

Those words are enough that Finn couldn’t stop himself even if he still wanted to. If Poe likes it, he sees no reason to hold back, and allows himself to express everything that he’s feeling in whatever way he wants.

 

He moans, he groans, he _begs_ as Poe kisses his way down his chest, gliding a deft hand up and down the length of his cock, giving all the right kinds of attention to the steadily leaking head, the sensitive underside, moving to cup balls.

 

And then the kisses trail down _even further_ , and Finn only has a moment to recognize what’s coming before Poe’s hot, wet mouth engulfs the dripping head of his cock, and once again his hips thrust up involuntarily as the sensation overtakes him.

 

Every time Finn thinks he’s at the apex of what pleasure can be, Poe seems determined to take him a little further, and Finn honestly can’t believe he hasn’t come already.

 

He doesn’t want to. He really doesn’t want to. Not yet. He wants this to last forever, and at the same time, he knows he’s on the cusp of something even more incredible. He battles against his own body, trying to draw out this incredible thing despite the need to _spill_ in what he knows will be the best rush he’s ever had.

 

At first, Poe keeps a hand at the base of his cock, and focuses his mouth on just the head of Finn’s cock, swirling his tongue around the tip of it in a way that makes Finn’s eyes roll back in his head, makes his cries of pleasure increasingly strangled. His hands grip into Poe’s soft, dark hair, pulling it tightly as he tries to control himself, to keep his hold on reality.

 

He worries, briefly, that maybe he’s pulling too hard, but the more he does it the more Poe seems to moan against his cock, sending even more pleasurable thrums through it.

 

And then- when Finn is barely keeping anchored as it is, Poe opens his mouth wider, and moves down, _down,_ taking him almost to the hilt. If he were in any state of mind to do so, Finn might puzzle over questions of _how_ Poe can manage such a thing but as it is, his only real  thought is _uunngh_ as pure pleasure makes his brain practically short circuit.

 

It doesn’t last long after that.

 

Poe’s only needs to move up and down his length few times, before Finn cries out his name, and grips Poe’s hair harder than ever and comes in hot spurts, unstoppable waves of rippling pleasure that shake him to his core, and Poe never moves away, not for a second. Finn can _feel_ him drinking it all up, no hesitation, and it’s _so_ hot, and it goes on for longer than he would have guessed.

 

Even when he’s done at last, when the last little burst has been sucked out of him, Poe’s not quick to pull away. He glides off him slowly, licking along Finn’s shaft as he goes, and when he finally makes it to the top, he _kisses_ the head, just once, and Finn could die maybe, right here, and be entirely happy.

 

Poe moves up his body then, snakes a hand over his belly, hugging him close. Finn is flat on his back, panting, gasping, hardly able to form a thought.

 

“Was that alright?” Poe asks, grinning, kissing his jaw.

 

Finn gives him an incredulous look. “Are you _kidding_ me? That was- Kriff, Poe, I don’t even have the words. Gonna- have to get back to you on that,” He falls back, staring at the stars, still hardly able to breathe. He can’t seem to recall what normal breathing is even supposed to be like.

 

As he lies there, slowly coming down from the cloud of euphoria Poe sent him to, he suddenly realizes, with a panic, that he hadn’t done _anything_ for Poe. The unfairness of it hits him, and he starts to sit up. “Kriff. Poe. I’m sorry. Do you want me to-”

 

But Poe puts a gentle hand to his shoulder and gently pushes him down. “Not now,” he says, kissing him briefly. “It’s alright. Please, just enjoy the moment.”

 

It’s a relief, honestly.

 

“O..okay,” he breathes.

 

Finn’s still not down from the high of his orgasm, and he’s not sure he’d be able to give Poe anything that remotely compares to what Poe just did for him right now. He very much hopes- _vows-_ that one day, he’ll be able to do that and more, but right now- it _is_ a lot to take in.

 

As Poe nestles close against him though, Finn wonders how he can _stand_ it. He’d felt how hard Poe was against him. Surely he must be half out of his mind too. Surely he can’t just-

 

_Oh._

 

He hears the unmistakable sounds of Poe fumbling with his own zipper. Poe glances up, meets his eyes and gives him an adorably bashful look, “You, uh, don’t mind, do you?”

 

Finn gives him a soft smile. “Not at all,” he says, and slips his hand under Poe’s shirt at the small of his back. He strokes him there, softly, languidly, as Poe works himself with his hand. Finn listens to his soft moans, the quickening of his breath, still caressing the soft skin of his back. He moves to his the top of his head and murmurs “I like your sounds too.”

 

Soon enough, Poe comes with a small cry.

 

When he’s done, he looks at Finn again, seeming vaguely embarrassed.

 

“That was hot,” Finn grins, because it was, and because he knows it will help put Poe at ease.

 

It does.

 

Poe kisses him once, and then they shift their positions. Finn turns on his side, putting his back to Poe and before he’s even over all the way, Poe’s presses up against him, enveloping him in warmth, nestling his chin onto Finn’s shoulder.

 

“I still can’t believe this is real,” Poe says quietly.

 

“I know,” Finn mutters, clasping his hand over the one Poe has draped across his belly, squeezing it.

 

“Guess it’s fair to say we’re both enormous idiots,” he says, and Finn let’s out a soft chuckle, basking in the warmth of this new thing that is _his,_ that he hopes will always be his.

 

“Fair to say,” he agrees, and brings up their hands up to his mouth so he can kiss Poe’s.

 

He feels warm in Poe’s arms, and more content than he ever has in his entire life. The lulling sounds of the life all around them, and the soft rise and fall of Poe’s chest against his back is deeply soothing. It seems he might get some sleep out here after all.

  
His eyelids start to flicker, and he begins to drift off, entirely enveloped and amazed by- _how had Poe phrased it?-_ how _right_ the universe seems with them side-by-side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is! The end of my first, but hopefully not last, attempt at Stormpilot fic. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been along for the ride. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought, if you can...or if you can think of any more FinnPoe things I can contribute to this lovely ship/community in the future. 
> 
> Feel free to find me on tumblr @ brienneofthrace!
> 
> <3 <3 <3
> 
> May the Force be with you.


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